


Secret Urges

by kookaburrito



Category: Glee
Genre: Embarrassment, Fantasizing, Fingering, First Love, First Time, Lovesickness, M/M, Masturbation, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kookaburrito/pseuds/kookaburrito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the Glee Kink Meme. A fic about Dalton roommates Kurt and Blaine (starting as acquaintances but progressing through friendship to eventual relationship) who keep inadvertently walking in on each other masturbating, then a time or two when the "discovery" is intentional. Their reactions reflect the current state of their relationship, following canon timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“We have one big closet for both of us, I hope you don’t mind,” Blaine was showing Kurt their room. Kurt wasn’t really listening; he was still shocked that out of all people boarding at Dalton he will be sharing a room with the most handsome boy he ever laid eyes on. Miracles like that don’t happen to people like him.

“And here we have a bathroom, the main privilege of a Warbler’s lead soloist,” Blaine flashed him an innocent smile.

Kurt’s brain suddenly caught on with the deeper meaning that an en-suite bathroom will imply. Sharing a bathroom with someone equals bringing the relationship to a much more intimate level. He only ever shared a bathroom with his family. Just like Kurt will be sharing a room with Blaine, his toothbrush will be sharing a cup with Blaine’s toothbrush. This thought made his insides melt.

“Kurt? Are you all right?” Blaine’s question snapped him out of a vivid daydream of a summer wedding.

“Yes, yes! Come on, show me where I can put my luggage,” Kurt replied, blushing.

He’ll just have to get used to that.


	2. Never Been Kissed

The first weeks were the adapting period of Kurt’s life in the dormitory. Blaine was polite and funny, he constantly wanted to introduce him to someone, tell a story or just ask questions regarding Kurt’s well-being. Kurt’s heart couldn’t take so much attention at once. So he fell deep and without remorse. His passion bordered with insanity. Blaine was Kurt’s knight in shining armor, a wise guide, and a savior all at once. Every day he couldn’t wait for classes to finish so they could go to the Lima Bean together. Kurt was patiently waiting for Blaine to start calling their coffee rendezvous ‘dates’. They certainly felt like dates. But because their personal space could go undisturbed by noisy customers, Kurt enjoyed the meetings outside the Lima Bean the most.

Once after Blaine showed him the pompous gardens of Dalton, they spent an entire afternoon there, just sitting under a tree, talking. The next time Kurt met with Mercedes, he told her that in his mind the scenario resembled a romantic picnic, one he had always dreamed of having, though truthfully there wasn’t any food. Mercedes noted the small changes in Kurt: his words about Dalton barely had any snarky comments and he was always in a happy mood, his outfits even more elaborate and flamboyant. She was a little bit worried for her best friend’s crazy crush on a guy that seemed a little oblivious. She advised Kurt to show some romantic initiative in his newfound friendship, otherwise the boy might get deluded and leave as quickly as he came into Kurt’s life. Kurt indignantly responded that he was perfectly fine with the pace, it was something he didn’t even dare dream of, and he wouldn’t want to ruin everything by rushing into things. What he didn’t say was that it already seemed too much too soon and he was slightly afraid of how it made him feel, vulnerable and giddy all at once.

But most of all he loved how charming and innocent-like Blaine was. He was certainly very different from the other boys, who always told dirty jokes, talked freely about the porn they’d watched or even bragged about sneaking in girls into their rooms to do god knows what. Kurt’s ears momentarily turned pink during conversations like that, and he was immensely thankful to Blaine, as he managed with great difficulty to change the topic to Warbler’s songs or upcoming movies. Kurt was sure that Blaine had the exact same views on sex, marriage and love as he had, and it made him strangely happy. 

A few weeks before Christmas, Kurt was reading his history book at the desk, while Blaine furiously typed an essay on his laptop, headphones on. The sound of raindrops against the glass of the heavy window made Kurt lose focus on the topic and he thought about how much he loved quietly spending his evenings just being in the same room with Blaine. What if they were 20 years older, sitting in a cozy room together, just like now, but happily married? Kurt would be reading the latest issue of a fashion magazine and Blaine would be writing his new book…

A loud knock on the door snapped him out of his daydream, and suddenly David walked in. 

“Hey guys! Blaine, could you come to my room? Wes wants you to listen to that new arrangement.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Blaine, hopping from the bed.

As the door closed behind them, Kurt saw Blaine’s laptop still open, with the headphones on. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm to take a look at his iTunes library? Blaine’s taste in music was a great mystery to Kurt. Blaine seemed to like just about everything, from top-40s to musicals to disco and Kurt just wanted to find out his all-time favorite album, so he might get it as a present for Christmas. Surely, he could’ve just asked, but that would ruin the surprise. Plus, presenting Blaine with his favorite album without prior notice would make him fall madly with Kurt and they could escape into the sunset on that very same day.

He slowly moved to Blaine’s bed, still internally debating the pros and cons. He sat on the bed and moved the laptop to face him. There were two tabs in the browser. One, currently opened, displayed an article about the French revolution. Kurt moved the cursor to minimize the page, but the other tab caught his eye. ‘ _Hot gay guys_ …’ doing what? His heart pumped faster, curiosity overtook him and he nervously clicked on the tab only to discover a blog full of porn. There was a video paused of a young blond man blowing a muscular guy on a bed. He quickly switched tabs and all but launched himself back to his desk. The timing was perfect, as Blaine decided to walk in that very second.

Kurt didn’t want to look in his direction. He felt mortified, and frankly a little betrayed. Obviously Blaine was just as interested in cheap porn as the other guys, if he dared watch a video like that with Kurt still in the room. Wait, does this mean that he does much more than stare at videos when Kurt’s not in the room? A wave of nausea washed over Kurt and he breathed heavily. It was all his fault, anyway. He shouldn’t have invaded his roommate’s personal space.

“Are you fine, Kurt? You’re breathing kind of fast,” Blaine asked, concerned.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Kurt’s high-pitched voice echoed in the room, and he wished to run away, “I’m going to take a shower!”

The hot water fell on his shoulders as Kurt lost himself in deep thought. Why was he so afraid of sex? The intimacy of the act was surely frightening. Exposing your body for someone to take it, your flaws for someone to see and judge. It must be a display of deep trust, powerful and overwhelming, when you’re in love. It shouldn’t exist in the form of porn, acted and sold for money. He scrubbed absentmindedly at his chest. On the other side, masturbation is something completely different. It does no harm. It’s a tension-reliever. He shouldn’t be so scared of that. And of course he’d done it, he just didn’t feel the constant urge to wrap a hand around his dick. He shouldn’t judge anyone because they felt it, right? Even Blaine liked it, so it shouldn’t be so bad? His head felt heavy with buzzing thoughts.

Coating his fingers with body lotion, Kurt observed it dripping on his wrist and down his hands. He felt his cheeks heat up with a question in his mind. What if Blaine is doing it right now? Kurt’s chest tightened, and breath hitched. Blaine may be sitting on the bed right now, with a hand in his sweatpants, and watching that video with wide eyes. And the only thing separating the two of them is a wall. He felt hot blood swirl through his veins down to his crotch, felt himself growing hard fast. Maybe he’s pumping quickly, hips thrusting wildly, eager to come, afraid to be caught? Kurt’s hand is moving on its own accord when he reaches down and strokes his cock. Maybe he’s hearing the loud moans and gasps of the two men right in his ears and softly whimpers himself? Kurt felt the heat pool in his belly, his rhythm quickening, and eyes closed, intense guiltless thoughts of Blaine’s imagined arms, chest, ass, cock flashing behind his eyelids. _Maybe he’s thinking of me when he comes?_ That tiny thought pushes him over the edge and Kurt comes all over his hand. Breathing heavily, he presses his forehead to the cool wall of the shower and takes a few moments to calm down.

What the hell has happened? He just came fantasizing over Blaine. He had never had an orgasm that intense, as he had never thought of any boy in particular before. How will he be able to watch Blaine in the eyes now? Everything’s going to be awkward and that will jeopardize and later completely ruin his friendship with Blaine. The best thing to do would be putting his mind under strict control, keeping his intentions and ideas one hundred percent pure from now on. He thoroughly washed away the splashes of come, as if by removing the result he could pretend that nothing happened. Kurt felt ashamed and embarrassed thinking of his only true friend here at Dalton in such an offensive way. But, he admitted to himself in a tiny voice in the deep corner of his mind, it had indeed felt truly amazing.


	3. Silly Love Songs

By the end of January, sharing a room with Blaine turned out to be heaven and hell in equal parts. Blaine was everything Kurt ever wanted in a roommate: tidy, punctual, patient. He was also everything he ever wanted in a boyfriend: charming, honest, supportive and (Kurt would never admit it out loud) incredibly sexy. One second he’d be fussing with Pavarotti, trying to out-chirp the poor bird, his behavior adorably sweet. And the other he’d come out of the shower in his towel, with his hair all messy, curly and dripping onto his shoulders and from there descending slowly on a very exposed and very naked torso, and start obliviously looking for a pair of sweatpants. Kurt seriously considered pre-ordering a grave with “died of sexual frustration” carved on it.

Before transferring to Dalton, Kurt never thought that masturbation would be something he’d be missing so much. He never had any particular craving to fulfill himself that way. He would never gush about boys, not even to his girl friends, and though he sometimes couldn’t help thinking of them that way, dirty thoughts very rarely brought him satisfaction. He considered it something unavoidable and slightly shameful, done under covers, quickly and with the lights off.

But now his need to touch himself grew more desperate with every single day. From that time when he first came to thoughts of Blaine, he’d gradually progressed to accept and open that part of himself. He didn’t feel dirty anymore, only terribly embarrassed. Blaine seemed to be everything he thought of lately, everything he wanted so much. He wasn’t doing any harm by blowing off some steam every now and then, was he?

The hardest task was finding a suitable place. Anywhere in the room would appear like infringement of the unspoken roommate agreement, the one about not-masturbating-to-thoughts –of-your-roommate, especially when he sleeps 5 feet away from you. Kurt wouldn’t do anything that gave away his secret thoughts to Blaine. No, thank you. 

He showered in the evenings and by then the pressure of school assignments and tiredness of all the dancing and singing in Warbler practice, homesickness and the constant fear of being too obvious to Blaine were all becoming too much, and his only desire was to collapse and sleep for days. Plus, Blaine’s products were all in there, judging him silently. What if Blaine’s hair-gel could talk to Blaine, and would tell him all about Kurt’s new hobby… Maybe Kurt really was going crazy. 

So generally he waited for the weekends to come around, so he could masturbate peacefully in the safety of his own bedroom. By the time he could lock the door and lay under the covers, his insides were buzzing with anticipation, excitement and unfulfilled desires of a whole week. Kurt would slowly peel his clothes off and attempt to take his time. He wanted this to last as long as possible, drag out as much pleasure as he could. He would be imagining the pressure of Blaine’s body on top of his, his wandering hands caressing him everywhere, touching, rubbing, claiming. He would stroke himself slowly, stilling his slicked hand with enormous effort, as his neglected cock throbbed and leaked precome on his belly. He conjured images of Blaine’s lips and tongue kissing him slowly, savoring his skin inch by inch, leaving a trail of hickeys behind. He recalled Blaine’s melodic voice that often made him shiver, fantasized about it being lower and more harsh, whispering words of love and lust in his ears. Hips bucking frantically, hand moving on its own accord now, he couldn’t tease himself anymore. Muscles spasming deliciously, he would come with a muffled moan and a single name on his lips. Afterwards he would often kick the covers away and lay naked on the bed, covered in come, glorious and divine, secretly enjoying his body being exposed like that. He waited for his breath to normalize and listened to his heartbeat subdue before finally falling asleep.

One week before Valentine’s Day, Kurt noticed Blaine’s behavior change to progressively nervous and clumsy. He has spent a few afternoons away from Dalton, without telling Kurt about his intentions. He secretly hoped that Blaine was preparing some grand gesture to confess his undying love. To avoid the persuasion of using the empty room to fulfill one of his currently constant physical needs, Kurt spent all his free time in the library, reading and studying. 

That day he couldn’t concentrate. He caught himself doodling his and Blaine’s initials and silly hearts, than reread the same page of the textbook over and over again, without understanding a single sentence. He couldn’t take it anymore. The anticipation made him dizzy and anxious. The text diffused into illegible letters and he thought he might as well be reading something in Chinese with the same progress. He closed the book and thought about going to take a nap. It would certainly refresh him.

He returned to their room, and carelessly pushed the door open. He definitely wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him. Blaine was there, convulsing on the bed, frantically pumping his red curving cock, sweatpants pushed down to mid-thigh, making wanton noises of pleasure, his forehead and chest glistening with sweat.

Kurt froze. His brain froze. His heart froze.

Blaine’s hand froze too. As much as you can freeze when you’re about to reach climax.

Their eyes met, and Kurt’s stomach flipped as he saw that Blaine’s hazel eyes have turned black. They were full of desire, not a hint of shame in them.

And then Kurt slammed the door shut and ran outside, out of the room, out of the hallway, out of the dormitory, away from Blaine’s lusty gaze. He found his car in the parking lot and scrambled into the driving seat, embracing his head with both hands on the steering wheel.

Embarrassment bubbled under his skin. His brain was making him replay the event over and over in his head, his face on fire and legs trembling. Why did he leave the library? Why wasn’t the door locked? Why must it have happened before Valentine’s? He had never seen Blaine so disheveled, animalistic and out of control. Well, he had never seen him mostly naked either.

‘Oh my god, I’ve seen his cock.’ The cock that has always been there. The cock that Blaine touches when he jerks off. The cock he wouldn’t mind touching too. Kurt needed a bucket of ice water or just a forceful slap. He shouldn’t think of any cock, especially his best friend’s and roommate’s cock. And he should stop repeating the damn word!

He took a deep breath and tried to block the image that kept popping in his brain. Sitting in the car was starting to feel cold and frankly quite pointless. Blaine is humiliated now, for sure. He’d better return to their room and tell him how sorry he is and then shut up for the rest of his life. Act like nothing happened. Blaine surely won’t be the one to remind him about the incident in the future.

Kurt hastily returned back to their room, hoping that the faster he would talk to Blaine, the faster he could forget this happened. He knocked three times.

“Come in,” shouted Blaine in a flustered tone.

He’d been obviously pacing the room back and forth, thankfully dressed now. Kurt didn’t look him in the eye when he rambled the apology he’d been practicing in his head.

“Blaine, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I’m terribly embarrassed…”

“No, Kurt, I’m the one embarrassed. I hope you still want to be my roommate?” 

Kurt’s wide eyes met Blaine’s sad and pleading.

“Of course I want to be your roommate. You’re my best friend,” Kurt replied, incredulous this was what has been bothering Blaine.

“Thank god, I thought I’ve ruined everything,” Blaine let out a nervous laugh and played with the hem of his shirt.

“This is incredibly awkward,” Kurt uttered with a hint of a smile.

“Yes it is. Why don’t we just watch a movie or something, and forget about this?”

While Blaine was excessively gesticulating and talking about everything and nothing in particular, desperate to alleviate the tension, Kurt settled on Blaine’s bed. Watching movies together was something that Kurt loved immensely, not only because discussing them with Blaine was always interesting and amusing, but also because they could sit side by side and sometimes even cuddle a little, blaming it afterwards on the sleepiness.

Blaine crawled on the bed beside Kurt and adjusted the laptop. Kurt was blankly staring at the screen, his mind elsewhere. With every nerve of his body he felt his side being pressed to Blaine’s, attached from shoulder to hip. Blaine’s body was warm and firm, his breath deep and slow. After about five minutes, the unusual silence has started to get on Kurt’s nerves and he shifted a little. 

“I’m sorry this… this happened, Kurt,” started Blaine all of a sudden in a barely audible voice. His eyes were fixed on the movie, but he wasn’t watching it either, “I usually try to control myself. This won’t happen again, I promise. I’m just a little bit nervous about something.” 

“What are you nervous about?” Kurt’s voice was close to a murmur. He didn’t want to speak up, because it may startle the magical moment he awaited for so long.

Blaine suddenly looked at Kurt and smiled sheepishly.

“Remember how I told you about singing to someone on Valentine’s Day? I’m totally going to do that, no matter what.”

He took Kurt’s hand, something he did often, but only with very close friends. Kurt thought that it meant that Blaine received very little physical comfort from his parents, and trapped in his Dalton uniform he sometimes forgot he was still a boy that needed support.

Kurt suddenly realized that there is so much he doesn’t even know about Blaine. Idolizing his every step wouldn’t help Kurt discover the real Blaine. His flaws and insecurities, his fears and desires, Kurt wanted to be the one Blaine could trust with anything. In that very moment Blaine gently slipped his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt felt so close to him in that moment, the closest he’s ever been.


	4. Blaime it on the Alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that this story follows canon timeline, so I don't focus on event we've seen in canon, but rather describe the reactions of my characters :) Thanks for reading!

Kurt wanted to cry. He was in the bathroom at his house, scrubbing Blaine’s vomit off his precious boots. The disaster of Valentine’s Day was one thing. He recalled that day when he walked in on Blaine, those sounds and images fresh in his mind from being thought over and over, and realized that it had nothing to do with him. Blaine was nervous and desperately in love with someone else. He was so turned on he couldn’t even pretend to shower and jerked off right in the bed – because he was attracted to some other guy. But tonight’s behavior at Rachel’s party was a completely different thing. Turns out Blaine would rather suck face with Ms. Rachel Berry of all people, than at least try to reciprocate his feelings. Kurt started to think that he and Blaine may really be better off as friends.

He scrubbed violently, holding back sobs, struggling to think of anything but Blaine. His hands were getting tired and his boots might as well have holes in them from all that cleansing. Kurt sighed and threw the cloth away. There was no reason to complete the skin care routine now, it was past one o’clock and all the muscles in Kurt’s body screamed for sleep. He quickly changed into pajamas and walked out of the bathroom and down the corridor. 

Passing by the door of Burt and Carole’s bedroom, he stepped on a creaking part of the floorboard. Though Burt was a heavy sleeper, he might’ve already woken up from all that noise they made while returning home. But Kurt didn’t care about stepping lightly, the vulnerable little boy in him secretly wanted his father to come out of the room right now and just hold him, reassure him and alleviate all the pain that the party has inflicted, convince him that Blaine is just a misguided soul. But his father didn’t understand. He would never understand the hurt of hiding your feelings in high school, of pining over Blaine who falls in love with everyone but you. Burt would likely just yell at both of them because Kurt carelessly parked the car in the middle of the sidewalk. With a heavy sigh, Kurt reached the door of his room. 

Blaine was sprawled on the bed, taking up the space where three people might fit. His mouth was opened slightly and his gentle breath was barely audible. Despite Kurt’s bitterness about the recent events, he still smiled, noticing how Blaine’s gel-less hair resembled a curly monster and the way he was drooling a little on the pillow. He settled on the bed, not before putting Blaine’s arm back where it should have been, and allowed himself to look. Blaine’s face was relaxed and peaceful, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, eyelashes long and graceful, lips shiny and kissable. Kurt could forgive him anything in that moment. The gap guy fiasco with the toys in the drawer, salivating in Rachel’s mouth, vomiting on expensive shoes all seemed distant and insignificant compared to the slow rise and fall of Blaine’s body, his calm expression and warmth radiating from his outstretched arm. Which was still really close to Kurt. Dangerously close. What if he just lies in his designated spot and puts Blaine’s arm where it previously was? Sure, it would land on him but it wouldn’t be his fault. He cautiously tugged on the sleeve, carefully took Blaine’s arm, it felt like an unusually warm doll’s arm, and quietly put it on his waist. No harm done.

Suddenly Blaine shifted on the bed, murmuring something in his sleep, and buried his head in Kurt’s shoulder, embracing him closely and laying half on top of him. Kurt grinned a little with victory and breathed in the scent of Blaine, though mixed with alcohol, still very appealing. ‘Thank god Blaine agreed to rinse his vomit stinking breath away with the mouthwash, otherwise he would have slept in the dog kennel’ a small thought flashed in Kurt’s mind.

Blaine was clearly a cuddly person, though restrained a little by his role of confident preppy boy, he unleashed his inner self only in moments of weakness. But the fact that Blaine wasn’t scared to touch Kurt was incredible. Kurt was quickly becoming addicted to the touches. Though sometimes he hugged girls, it felt nothing like hugging boys. And hugging boys was nothing compared to cuddling with boys. Though, technically he hadn’t cuddled with anyone else, it always felt magical, but maybe the reason was Blaine himself. He shivered, feeling the way Blaine’s body was pressing into his, clinging like he ached for the closeness, for the intimacy. It felt warm and safe, like getting cozy in a nest, and Kurt loved it. From the tips of his toes, passing through the lean legs and bony hips, firm belly and chest, his arms holding gently, and face so close he could count the number of eyelashes, Kurt felt Blaine all around him, and his stomach turned into a factory of butterflies. 

Kurt didn’t know how on earth could he ever give up on Blaine. He squeezed Blaine’s side and caressed his back in hesitant little pats. His last thought before falling asleep was of a giant fluffy dog.

His first thought before waking was of fire. The ever-consuming fire that burns entire forests, untamable and powerful, magnificent in its destructible force. The fire that now resided in his body. And was concentrated right in his crotch. And the reason was simple. Blaine was between his legs, licking, sucking, slurping, making noises so obscene it was impossible to breathe. His cock was rock hard and bobbing in and out of Blaine’s tight wet mouth, saliva and precome mixing and dripping out of it down to the chin. A mop of unruly curls was brushing his thighs, tickling him playfully, while a strong arm was holding his wildly thrusting hips in place. Simultaneously a gentle hand was firmly gripping the base of his cock, not letting him come yet. Blaine’s tongue was teasing mercilessly: lapping at the slit, circling the head and swirling up and down the length, sending sparks of pleasure through his nerves. His toes were curling, muscles clenching, and blood boiling. He clutched at Blaine’s hair, so tight it definitely hurt, and couldn’t help but look down. Blaine’s eyes were dark, blown with lust, and he smiled devilishly around Kurt’s poor throbbing cock, before taking one deep final suck and suddenly working his slick hand in quick strokes until Kurt was moaning and whimpering so loud his lungs hurt. Despite the delicious feeling of an upcoming orgasm, Kurt wasn’t able to look away. The image of Blaine pumping his cock was forever imprinted in his mind. Suddenly he caught the sight of Blaine’s own cock rubbing desperately into the sheets, craving relief. Seeing Blaine so turned on because of him was the last drop. As he felt the powerful waves of orgasm splash over him, his mind began to understand. Fire. Kurt’s body was on fire and he was coming hard, all over his hand, leaving streaks of white on his stomach, clothes, sheets. 

Kurt was trying to catch his breath, his eyes trying to focus on the familiar ceiling of his room, while the realization that it was just an insane dream was becoming more and more lucid, and of course Blaine wasn’t giving him the most amazing blow job, such crazy thing was impossible, partly because Blaine wasn’t even in the room. Or was he? Panic struck his mind as he remembered chaotic bits of the previous night: the red solo cups in that hideous basement, Rachel’s lipstick smeared all over Blaine’s face, the ridiculous drunken questions he had to put up with (“Kurt! Do you think I would grow as tall as Finn if I drank milk every day?”), Blaine burying himself face-down into the duvet as soon as they entered Kurt’s room. 

Kurt’s eyes snapped wide open. Blaine was in the room. And had been all along. He slowly turned his head, as if moving slowly might change the fact that Blaine had just witnessed him jerking off to a wet dream. But there he was, and very awake too. 

Kurt’s face was on fire. His mind was on fire. His heart was on fire.

Blaine’s face, on the other hand, expressed a mix of deep surprise, curiosity and confusion, though his eyes were still foggy from the alcohol. Kurt covered his burning face with the clean hand, a stream of “oh my god” escaping his lips.

Grabbing hastily the tissues from the nightstand, he pushed the sheets away and tried to clean the mess with trembling hands, nearly crying in frustration that Blaine is seeing him like this. The most vulnerable and embarrassed he has ever been. The only chance to redeem his pride now was to run away to Australia. He made a quick motion to get up, but Blaine’s hand caught him.

“Come on, Kurtie pie. You don’t need to freak out,” Blaine mumbled in a raspy and tired voice. 

Never tell someone who is freaking out not to freak out. Kurt tried to escape the tight grip, but obviously Blaine was strong even in a drunk state. Kurt had little experience in dealing with drunk people, much less the ones who called him by the nicknames his parents gave him when he was little. Kurt wiggled, which only made Blaine clutch stronger.

“You don’t need to freak out,” repeated Blaine, the tone of his voice exactly the same when dealing with small children, “Because you’re hot stuff.”

Kurt managed to poke Blaine hard in the ribs with an elbow, and finally set himself free. Ignoring Blaine’s hiss of pain, he promptly ran out of the room and down the corridor, taking refuge in the bathroom and finally locking the door.

Throwing splash after splash of freezing water in his own face, Kurt unsuccessfully tried to calm down. The remaining feeling of intensity and wonder still lingered in his mind, The Devilish Seducer Blaine from the dream and Blaine The Drunk 5-year-old intertwined into one person and Kurt wasn’t able to tell one from another.

A hidden part of himself was now stolen by mistake. He never intended for Blaine to see him doing that, something he still was embarrassed to confess he enjoyed. It wasn’t really Kurt’s fault, and nothing could be done at this point, but he still felt as if he deserved the punishment by maniacally obsessing over Blaine’s body. He sat on the cold tiled floor and hid his face in his hands.

He felt truly miserable. Even if Blaine miraculously failed to remember the events of the previous night, Kurt wasn’t ready to face him tomorrow morning, not after the dirtiest images of Blaine that his sexually repressed mind created in the light of his desires would still pop out at the slightest thought of Blaine. His conscience would never leave him in peace now.

Nor would his brain, that apparently was eager to revive every detail again and again. Blaine sucking his cock like there was no tomorrow, the strong smell of sweat and semen, Blaine staring at him in bewilderment, the soft used tissues he dropped on the floor in the rush, Blaine gripping his arm and his nonsense mumblings. Which reminded him of “hot stuff”. What did he even mean by that? Clearly, even drunk, Blaine’s subconscious was capable of joking.

The fault was all Rachel’s. Rachel and her stupid party and the alcohol and spin the bottle. He should plot an elaborate revenge that will cause Rachel eternal humiliation, but right now he was too damn tired to even keep his eyes open. Without realizing it, Kurt dozed off.

He woke up a little after seven, hurting all over because of the hardness of the cold bathroom floor and the weird position he slept in. Thoughts of the night’s accident haven’t left him during the few hours of slumber. He dreamt of running through a big dark corridor, away from a chaser that grabbed at his clothes, gradually tearing them all off piece by piece, until he was naked, alone and scared in the darkness.

After brushing his teeth, Kurt decided to be brave and return into his room, in order to complete the precious moisturizing routine he had neglected yesterday. Taking good care of his hands and face was a huge part of Kurt’s life. First of all, it reminded him of his mother, and sometimes he would speak soft words to her, little snippets of his daily routine or just simple “I miss you”s, as he catched glimpses of her features in his own reflection in the mirror. Secondly, it was a necessary ritual that relaxed him and gained him extra-confidence to go through the day as his usual superior self. And at last, he really liked looking pretty and tidy. When he returned home on the weekends, Kurt spent a ridiculous amount of time behind his vanity, to make up for all those missed or skipped chances at Dalton. Going without a routine on the weekend would make him nervous and irritable, that’s why he gathered the last crumbles of courage to return into his own room with dignity. Kurt couldn’t avoid his best friend and roommate forever, in part because he had no other choice. Reluctantly crossing the hallway and pushing the door of his room open, he found Blaine still asleep. Thank god, maybe he could sleep until it was time for breakfast, so they wouldn’t have to face each other alone.

Kurt silently sat down at his vanity, his back to Blaine on the bed and the memory of last night, and began to fuzz with the different lotions. Trying to be quick, he mixed up the order in which the face cream had to be applied and needed to smear it all over again. He was so engrossed in remedying his mistake, he didn’t even hear his dad come into the room.

And then it was too late, Blaine has woken up, Burt had a giant question written all over his face, and Kurt wasn’t ready in any way.

When the door closed behind Burt, Kurt’s only wish was to be swallowed alive by a giant crocodile, because Blaine was making some horrendous groans of pain, and ignoring him would be terribly cruel. Kurt poured him a glass of water and handed him the aspirin, avoiding his eyes and trying to rub the cream into his cheek as fast as he could.

“Thanks,” Blaine muttered.

“Mhhm,” Kurt replied, in hope that his clear disinterest would end the dialogue.

“Gosh, my head hurts so badly, and I can’t even remember what happened last night,” Blaine complained, falling back on the bed with a loud ‘thump’.

‘You shouldn’t’ Kurt thought, choosing the hairspray in a quick familiar motion out of many bottles and flasks he owned.

“Oh, I remember now, we were at Rachel’s party, and you were wearing a red shirt, skintight black pants and those boots you went on and on about in the car,” Blaine was trying hard to remember, “Oh and I sang ‘ _Don’t You Want Me_ ’, didn’t I? With Rachel. Oh my god, did we kiss?” 

“We did not, thank you very much, you vomited on my boots with that mouth,” Kurt was beginning to get annoyed, his hair chose to be capricious this morning, and styling it hurriedly only made things worse.

“Yeah, I remember now,” Blaine seemed not to hear him, babbling tons of words in need of escape all at once, “I kissed Rachel! We totally made out! And we were dancing and Mike made me drink something right out of the bottle. Then I remember singing in your car, how did I get there? And then you were yelling something about your boots and your bed was so soft, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because…”

Blaine seemed to be engrossed in a search in the corner of his mind for a tiny memory, when a sudden realization hit him. His expression changed in a nanosecond, eyes going wide and incredulous.

He stopped abruptly and Kurt’s cheeks immediately flushed. Blaine didn’t forget.

“Oh,” he said, his brows furrowed in concentration, and Kurt couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shut up, Blaine, just shut up!”

Kurt smashed the spray back in it place and accidentally knocked over all the hand creams. His eyes were starting to sting, but he didn’t want to cry, he wanted to be furious. He wanted to punch Blaine in his gorgeous face and then throw him out of the house and tell him it wasn’t fair. Instead, he just pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, Blaine broke the silence with a half-reassuring, half-awkward tone.

“Relax, Kurt, it happens to everyone. You walked in on me that one time, remember?”

Of course he freaking remembered, it nurtured his fantasies and now he couldn’t even sleep next to Blaine without having realistic full-blown dreams, no pun intended. He wouldn’t be able to wash that memory away, not even with a bleacher. Blaine was now hugging a pillow tight to his chest, his voice faint and sad.

“I don’t want us to be weird because of stuff like that. Honestly, sometimes I just feel like you’ve built a wall around yourself, and I don’t even know you at all.”

“What?!” Kurt turned around to see Blaine suddenly very interested in the state of his nails, his facial expression an uncanny resemblance to a kicked puppy. Kurt was truly shocked. That was the last thing he expected Blaine to say. They talk every day and sleep in the same room, they go on coffee ‘dates’ and sing duets, they share recipes and listen to the same music. What goddamned wall is he talking about?

“It’s just,” Blaine laid his head back on the pillow, “We never talk about, you know, gay stuff.”

“Oh,” Kurt deadpanned, crossing his arms.

“Before, I thought you turned your switch off regarding this stuff because of Karofsky, but clearly you’re very on with that, because of what you did, ehm, last night,” he vaguely waved in Kurt’s direction, “You like, never tell me some guy is hot, or just stuff in general, like, would you like to be more dominant or submissive in a relationship. I’m supposedly your best friend. I don’t even know what type of guy you’re attracted to…”

Blaine sighed, exasperated. He started fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Kurt took a moment to notice how even crazily hungover Blaine would use words like ‘dominant’ and ‘submissive’ correctly. Dalton clearly taught excelling speech skills.

“Okay, Blaine,” started Kurt firmly, praying his voice wouldn’t tremble. He stood up and reached the wardrobe in quick steps, “I’m not closing up on you, it’s just that I’m not comfortable about this stuff. What you saw was a mortifying accident, and I would appreciate if you forgot everything about it.”

He didn’t spare Blaine another glance, his posture was stiff when he finally took out the clothes he wanted from the closet, slamming it shut a little bit too hard. Blaine tried to say something, but Burt yelled again, asking for Kurt to get his butt downstairs and make breakfast. 

Kurt couldn’t have been out of there fast enough.


	5. Sexy

Kurt lazily chewed on the toast his dad just brought him. He carefully laid out the pamphlets on the bed, and spent 10 minutes arranging them alphabetically, then by hideousness of the picture, and then according to the color scheme of the cover, trying to think of a valid excuse to postpone the disastrously awkward impending process of reading those tiny pieces of paper.

Kurt couldn’t believe that after kicking Blaine out of his room on Friday, Blaine would still care about him enough to seek Burt and tell him god knows what that clearly lead to the sex talk. He presumed Blaine would be angry and distant, because Kurt was so damn stubborn in his beliefs. He was still so shocked that he couldn’t even decide what his opinion on the whole matter was.

Surely, Blaine had no right to pry into his personal life. At first, Kurt was hesitant about Blaine’s hangover revelation regarding their newfound difference of opinion about sex, but now he was becoming pretty aware of Blaine’s fears about Kurt closing up. He persuaded the Warblers to let them sing lead on “Animal” together, volunteered to teach him acting sexy, and even to widen his knowledge about sex. Though they accomplished nothing, because of Kurt’s lack of enthusiasm, he finally began to understand that Blaine was deeply concerned. Anyway, he still wasn’t comfortable enough to talk to Blaine, partly because Blaine was the object of his desires. What would they be talking about anyway?

On the other hand, Kurt was secretly thankful and immensely impressed that Blaine had the guts to talk to Burt. It was either a deeply courageous or an outrageously stupid thing to do, especially when you’ve been recently discovered in the bed of the person you wanted to be educated about sex.

The only reasonable explanation was that Blaine saw Kurt as a child, completely lacking knowledge or experience, and furthermore obdurately denying his need to understand. It was frustrating and a little bit heartbreaking, but after all those times when Blaine chose to view him simply as a friend, Kurt decided he would do everything in his power to at least be the best friend he could ever be.

That’s why he took a deep breath and opened the first pamphlet, only to be one step closer to understanding Blaine.

* * *

It was Sunday evening and it has been exactly 48 hours after Kurt kicked Blaine out of his room, also the longest they had gone without communicating. Blaine stared at Kurt’s books piled up neatly on his desk, at Pavarotti’s cage covered with a sheet for the night, at Kurt’s pristine bed across the room. He missed his best friend.

Truth to be told, Blaine hadn’t had a best friend since Gordon. They lost contact after the Sadie Hawkins’ dance, but it was a really good friendship while it lasted. Dalton Academy quickly became a heaven for Blaine - here he felt safe, accepted and at ease. He loved the solemn atmosphere of the serious meetings of the Warbers just as much as goofing around with them after practice. He loved hanging around with Wes and David, because they were older and cooler, but as they turned seniors, they became busier with studying and chorus duties. He loved talking with Nick and Jeff, because they were gay too and he could relate to them about the bullying, but because they were dating, he always felt like a third-wheel. He loved joking with Trent, because he was the funniest guy, but Thad was his roommate, and the way Thad sometimes looked at him like a hungry cat was a little bit terrifying. The Warblers have become his family, but what he really wanted was someone with whom he could feel as much at ease as with himself.

After Kurt transferred, Blaine hoped with all his heart that Kurt would be that person. It is difficult to earn the respect of people like Kurt, as much as it’s hard to lose their loyalty after you’ve gained their trust. From the first meeting, it became clear that Kurt was the epitome of individuality. As Blaine became further acquainted with him, he discovered more of his positive qualities: he was the most morally righteous person Blaine had ever met, secure in his ambitions and dreams, faithful in his friendships and passionate in his talents. Blaine was perpetually stunned that such a brave and powerful personality didn’t break after the hell Kurt had to get through regarding the bullying and harassment. Apart from the respect, Blaine was in awe at how much they had in common, from fashion to movies, from literature to music, there was not a single topic of conversation that has been boring for Blaine to discuss with Kurt. They had their disagreements about certain issues, but there’s no fun in having the same point of view on everything: Blaine liked to mock Kurt about his disinterest in sports, while Kurt had always teased Blaine about genuinely enjoying disco.

And Blaine would be lying if he said Kurt wasn’t attractive. He clearly remembered that moment on the staircase, the first time their eyes locked, the immediate thought that the boy in front of him was an angel, immaculate hair styled with effort, and glasz eyes that were looking right into his soul. But the initial powerful attraction faded into the background after Blaine got to know Kurt a little better and learned about the difficult times that the boy was fighting through. He believed in honest relationships, he enjoyed love stories that developed from a long and loyal friendship, he thought Kurt deserved to be loved wholeheartedly and not just crushed upon.

Also, Blaine wasn’t sure if Kurt had feelings for him. He didn’t dwell upon the subject, because of the support Kurt needed to get out of the Karofsky depression. Furthermore, regarding things that had to do with sex and intimacy, Kurt was very restrained. Blaine had felt as if he had peeked into a box of Kurt’s feelings with that simple ‘I have never been kissed’ sentence, only to find it afterwards perpetually locked. Surely, Blaine would never force Kurt to talk about stuff that was traumatic for him, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent himself that way. He had a difficult time constantly trying to control himself in order not to blurt out stuff like ‘That barista has the cutest smile’ or ‘I would totally bang Orlando Bloom on the coffee table’. What was the point of having a gay best friend if they couldn’t share these kinds of thoughts with each other?

The way Kurt bottled up his feelings made Blaine feel left out. Either Kurt just considered Blaine not good enough a confider, or the Karofsky situation left a giant footprint that dangerously distorted Kurt’s vision of the world. The more time passed, the more Blaine was sure that Kurt should at least take a step away from the painful memories of his McKinley life, a small step forward to reveal his inner world. But things actually got worse, with splashes of avoidance and taciturnity around pre-Christmas time and the whole deal of Valentine’s Day. Which still confused Blaine an awful lot. Was Kurt mad about Blaine’s decision to not tell him about the existence of Jeremiah, embarrassed by the awkward situation and his roommate’s weird habits, or disgusted at the discovery that Blaine was obsessed with masturbation just like any other guy?

Blaine’s head was spinning with thoughts, questions, assumptions. One thing Blaine hated to do was overthink, as the ramification of possible outcomes tangled up so tight that it would be impossible to reach any logical conclusion. But right now he couldn’t help but brainstorm, as he was a little bit worried about screwing up his friendship with Kurt.

Thinking back on the events of the past week, the only thing Blaine was sure he did right, was speaking with Kurt’s father. Burt would to the right thing for his son in the aspect of teaching him about sex. He hoped that Kurt wasn’t angry about his overstepping, but judging by the weekend spent without any single message, he wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t crossed the line.

Glancing at the clock, Blaine was surprised to find out it was already past curfew. Clearly, Kurt would be coming back only the next morning. Blaine finally decided to switch the nightstand light off and quickly removed his shirt. He never slept with a shirt on. Even when Kurt tried to persuade him by listing the benefits of an undershirt and pajama long-sleeved shirt with embroidered initials, Blaine never failed to tell him it was ridiculous. Leaving only the sweatpants on, he got under the covers and lay on his side, facing Kurt’s bed again. 

Despite the tiredness, his mind still lingered on the same topic. He thought about how much he loved physical pleasure, about how much meaning it had to have achieving such pleasure with a loving partner. He thought about the historical paradox of society viewing sex like something shameful, when in reality it was completely natural and expected. He thought about how much he enjoyed watching porn, the fuel for his fantasies, and about the look of fear in Kurt’s eyes, the blush of embarrassment on his face at the slightest mentioning of those movies.

Blaine thought about the possibility of Kurt being asexual. He would have to deal with the fact of having a best friend that completely lacked interest in sex, when his own sex drive was shamefully over the top. Without intention his thoughts slid off to the night he saw Kurt masturbating. His memories were muddled by alcohol, but the flush on Kurt’s cheeks, his leaking cock peeking from the underwear and his body tensing and shivering in little shocks was something he couldn’t forget. The intensity of the act was astounding, and the way Kurt’s hand stroked quickly while he was half-asleep was clearly a clue that it was habitual. It was the first time he witnessed something sexual happening with his own eyes, apart from the porn. He wondered if recalling it made him remember things he didn’t see, imagine things he would’ve liked to see. Kurt looked so pretty and innocent, but debauched at the same time.

Blaine’s hand inevitably found its way into his pants. Strangely, he didn’t feel the slightest ounce of guilt thinking about Kurt. Kurt felt the same insatiable need, had dirty fantasies, secretly enjoyed touching himself. Blaine reached down and slid his hand under the waistband of his underwear, his fingers purposely avoiding his swelling cock. He played a little with his balls, pulled at the thin skin of the groin, stroked over his thighs. He liked building the excitement until the need to touch was unbearable; turn something erotically slow into an explosion of neediness. He liked playing overly detailed fantasies in his head, nameless beautiful guys wanting to touch, to lick, to tease and rub and thrust and fuck him. His other hand reached down as caressed along the cleft of his ass and slowly massaged the hot skin near his hole. His cock was fully erect, every vein throbbing desperately. 

Blaine closed his eyes and guiltlessly imagined Kurt sitting on his bed across the room. He boldly stripped Kurt of all the clothes and drank in the sight of his nakedness. Milky pale chest, adorned with two little pink nipples, the long arms and legs, graceful and strong, that neck that craved to be bitten and licked all over, the delicate dip of the navel and the soft line of hair that lead down to his beautiful cock.

The roughness of the fingers was becoming painful, so he quickly reached for the bottle of lube that he kept under the pillow. The liquid was cold on the pads of the fingertips, but it warmed up as he smeared it around the tight ring of muscles.

He imagined Kurt standing up and coming to his bed in slow steps, smiling devilishly. Blaine’s breath hitched, as Kurt made a move to straddle him. He quickly laid on the back, adjusting his hands to the new position, his thoughts to the new exciting fantasy. Now Kurt was hovering above Blaine, surrounding him, pushing his sweatpants down to mid-thigh, invading every last bit of personal space. He pretended that Kurt’s long slim fingers were stretching him open, and his legs automatically spread wider, hips pushing upwards.

‘ _You’re so hard for me_ ,’ Kurt murmured right in his ear, low and seductive, and Blaine swallowed involuntarily. Oh god, dirty talk really turned him on. ‘ _I want you so bad_ ,’ continued Kurt, pressing his lips up the column of his neck. ‘ _I want to fuck you. Fuck yourself on my fingers_ ’.

Blaine’s fingers slid easily into the slickness of his hole, everything was tight and hot inside of him. The delicious feeling of fullness compensated the burn of the stretch. Kurt’s imaginary lips were now sucking on his nipple, which sent a thrill down Blaine’s chest and belly right between his spread legs. He couldn’t avoid how hard he became from the fantasy, how much he wanted to finally touch his cock. Trying to hastily pour the lube with one hand was no easy task, too much liquid coated his palm that now was excessively slick and dripping, leaving wet stains on the sheets. But it didn’t matter. Kurt’s apparition smirked and finally wrapped a hand around his throbbing dick, eliciting a loud moan of relief from Blaine.

The slickness and wetness were phenomenal, but they were nothing compared to that delicious urge that settled inside of Blaine when he started to pump. ‘ _You love it when I touch you, don’t you, Blaine_?’ Kurt whispered, brushing a thumb just under the head. Blaine was moaning, groaning, whining, and forgetting to breathe. He cried louder than ever, but didn’t care about all the noise, he was enjoying every single second of it. The soft thumping of his thrusts was met by the incessant pushing of his fingers, buried deep up to the knuckles, brushing gently against his prostate and slipping out again almost completely. The increasing rhythm was becoming uncontrollable, his muscles were tensing all over and his body was scorching hot - he was so undeniably close. 

And then a sudden image of his fingers being replaced by Kurt’s cock, being inside of him, fucking wildly into him, slamming and pushing, drove Blaine completely mad with lust. ‘ _I will fuck you so hard, until you can’t help but scream my name_ ,’ imaginary Kurt groaned, and Blaine cried out a desperate ‘Ahh-’, his brows furrowed and eyes closed— And he was having the most mind-blowing orgasm he’s ever had. He came on his belly and chest, streaks of white mixing with the salty sweat on his skin, his hand stroking lazily through his climax until he was finally spent.

Blaine was trying to catch his breath, his heart still beating erratically, when the sudden sound of his ringtone scared him to half-death. He carelessly wiped the hands on a tissue before reaching for the phone. When he saw Kurt’s name flashing on the display he momentarily froze in silent panic. But the buzzing was so annoyingly loud that he wanted it to stop more than anything right now. Blaine pressed the receive call button without much preparation.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Blaine,” Kurt’s familiar high-pitched voice echoed in his ear, and the thought of Fantasy Kurt whispering filth in his ear with that same exact voice made him shiver.

“Hi, Kurt,” Blaine tried to steady his tone as much as he could.

“Listen, I just called to say that I’ll return tomorrow morning…”

“Okay, I kind of figured it out.”

“But also to tell you how sorry I am for what happened on Friday, I shouldn’t have thrown you out of my room when you just wanted to help me.”

“It’s okay, Kurt, I’m glad we’re fine,” said Blaine with genuine relief.

“Huh, right, I’m glad too. What were you up to this whole weekend?”

Blaine’s heart jumped up to his throat. ‘Not much, just jerking off to thoughts of you,’ he thought, but managed to squeeze a decent sentence out of himself.

“Not much. Read a book for lit class.”

“…Okay. I’ve been reading something too. My dad brought me these pamphlets.”

“Pamphlets?”

“Yes. And he gave me a sex talk.”

“Oh,” Blaine wasn’t prepared to hear real Kurt say the word ‘sex’ right after he imagined doing it with him. His brain wished to press the breaks to slow down this conversation, but apparently Kurt had a lot to say.

“I just wanted to say, that the talk and the pamphlets certainly made me reconsider the opinions I had on the matter,” Kurt stated with an accomplished tone of voice.

“I guess that’s good,” Blaine said with an awkward laugh, looking down at his own naked body covered with come. If only he knew.

“Also, I’m impressed that you talked to my dad and remained alive,” Kurt was clearly smiling, which made Blaine smile a little too. No matter how ridiculous or complicated the situation was, Kurt would always remain his best friend.

“That’s right, when I was in your dad’s shop I was concerned for my life too,” replied Blaine and heard Kurt chuckle immediately in response.

“I’m glad you called, Kurt,” whispered Blaine earnestly.

“Yeah, me too.”

They stayed on the line for a little while in silence.

“Okay then. See you tomorrow, I guess. Good night Blaine.”

“Good night, Kurt. Sweet dreams.”


	6. Sexy part2

An entire week has passed. Kurt was busy with Warbler practice devoted exclusively to the upcoming Regionals. Also midterms were approaching, and he promised to give it his best, for the sake of his father’s money, if not for himself. Apart from that, almost every day after school he made plans to hang out with his girls. Wednesday was Tina’s birthday, and he even managed to squeeze in a sleepover into his busy schedule. 

Kurt had survived until Thursday, which was a big accomplishment. After another nerve-wrecking day, it was good to finally return to his dorm room. Filling Pavarotti’s feeder, he felt the pressure dissipate; glad he finally had a relatively free evening. Observing the canary nibbling at the seeds, Kurt thought about Regionals and the struggle he will have to face competing with his friends. He briefly toyed with the strange idea of returning to McKinley, walking down the hallways in one of his fabulous outfits, giving his trademark superior look to the jocks, singing a mind-blowing solo in Glee. The nostalgia sometimes stung a little bit, but going back for real would be like stepping out of the safest tower of a castle to fight with a hungry dragon. Dalton was truly like a fairytale escape, and Kurt wouldn’t give it up for the whole world. 

Paying attention in classes this week was difficult, but mostly it felt good to concentrate on his academic performance because it took his mind off those insistent little thoughts he didn’t want to deal with right now. Kurt couldn’t explain the rush of adrenaline he felt after reading one particular pamphlet, so different from the other ones, entitled “The Joys of Gay Sex”, which dealt more with the emotional side of a sexually active life. He felt as if someone charged his skin with electricity, as if tons of new possibilities opened up before his eyes. He felt liberated, but a little bit scared. 

Shaking those thoughts away, Kurt lay on the bed and was about to start reading his biology textbook, when Blaine walked into their room, all sweaty and worked-up from his boxing practice. A white fluffy towel hung around his neck, a tank top possessively clung to his chest, a pair of boxing gloves hung carelessly over his shoulder. Blaine had boxing practice twice a week for the last 6 months, but not a single time was Kurt prepared to the sight that greeted him afterwards. The exposed muscles on Blaine’s forearms, little drops of sweat rolling down his neck and curls escaping from the gel at the nape of his neck were all something Kurt wouldn’t mind staring at all day.

“Hi, Kurt!” greeted him Blaine, while kicking off his trainers, “So, how are the girls? You miss them?”

Trying to focus more on his homework than on the flexing muscles of Blaine’s chest under that thin tank top was indeed a herculean task. 

“Yeah, they’re great. We had a sleepover at Tina’s the other day,” said Kurt vaguely.

“How come the two of us don’t ever have sleepovers?” Blaine pouted, uncapping a bottle of water.

“We’re roommates, Blaine. We sleep in the same room almost every day,” Kurt declared flatly, though his insides stirred a little at the sight of Blaine drinking water, as his eyes followed the few escaped drops that were running down his neck. He couldn’t deal with Blaine’s whining when he looked like a sexy model for a water advertisement.

“You know that’s not the real idea of a sleepover. We can order pizza and gossip too, you know. I truly believe the uniform restrains you a little bit,” Blaine smiled disarmingly.

‘YOU restrain me a little bit, moron’ Kurt thought, blushing.

“Come on, we can move the beds together and you can teach me how to do my nails or something. I can even wear pajamas.”

The puppy dog eyes Blaine was using right now could be considered a weapon of mass destruction.

“Alright, if that’s what you want,” Kurt sighed in defeat.

“Sweet! Can you order some pizza? I’ll go hit the shower.”

Before the images of naked and wet Blaine could flood his mind, Kurt dialed the number of the pizza delivery. In an hour, Blaine was starting to get anxious. He already moved the beds, adjusted the laptop and changed into pajamas, but Kurt still wasn’t back with their food. He probably should’ve volunteered to go himself. Just as Blaine contemplated the idea of going downstairs to see what happened, Kurt opened the door.

“What took you so long?” Blaine took the boxes off Kurt’s hands, while he removed the jacket.

“It’s unbelievable! My friend Sam was there. From McKinley,” Kurt seemed truly stunned.

“Wait, Sam is the blond guy, right?” Blaine asked, remembering unclear bits of Rachel’s party.

“Yes. He now works as a pizza boy!”

Kurt filled in Blaine on the newly found situation with Sam, and at the same time picked up his perfectly ironed pajamas from the closet. Then he changed in the bathroom, and when he finally sat on the bed, Blaine was already chewing a slice of pizza. Kurt helped himself to a piece too, taking it graciously with a napkin.

“So you think Sam’s cute?”

Kurt chocked on his pizza, and flushed as deep a red as the tomatoes that were stuck in his throat. He glared at Blaine.

“What? That’s such a simple question.”

“Okay. If you really want to do this, I do think he’s attractive. I actually had a crush on him when he first transferred.”

“Oh that’s interesting. Have a thing for blonds?” Blaine quirked his eyebrows teasingly.

Kurt sighed. If Blaine wanted to go there, he wouldn’t be the one to ruin all the fun. After all, he decided that they really were better off as friends. So, let’s do what friends do.

“Not at all, but you should’ve seen him in our version of Rocky Horror.”

“You did Rocky Horror? Seriously? At school? Who were you?”

“Just your regular creepy bald guy. Okay, wait, I’ll show you.”

Kurt thoroughly cleaned off his fingers and reached for the laptop. The youtube channel of the New Directions contained an archive of their performances, which were regularly updated by Rachel Berry herself. Seeing Kurt’s friends all dressed up in amazingly plausible costumes, Blaine started to laugh, and couldn’t stop until the end of the video.

“Wow, Kurt! That’s terrific! You all look so believable,” Blaine chuckled.

“Originally, Sam had to do it shirtless! Let me tell you, the boy has perfect abs.”

Kurt seemed to talk confidently, but the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. Blaine felt a pang of uneasiness. Why was Kurt complimenting another guy’s body so strangely uncomfortable? He tried to suppress the feeling, and be as cheerful as possible.

“Show me some more videos! I want to see you in your natural habitat. What’s that? Le Jazz Hot! Is it from Victor/Victoria?”

Despite a stream of “no, Blaine, please, close it”, and some hair tugging and pushing, Blaine still managed to open the video. Watching as Kurt danced, his split outfit, owning the stage, dancing and singing in the spotlight, gyrating his hips and smiling a victory smile to the audience, not a hint of shame or insecurity, Blaine was completely in awe. 

“Why would you not want me to see it, Kurt? It’s so amazing!”

Kurt settled on the far corner of the bed, not protesting, feigning complete disinterest, but occasionally stealing a glace or two at the screen.

Blaine watched the majority of videos of the channel, and he couldn’t tear away his eyes from the screen. Kurt in a leotard doing the Single Ladies dance, Kurt singing his heart out in A House Is Not a Home, Kurt as a little monster in the highest heels singing Bad Romance, even a brief glimpse of cowboy Kurt in Last Name - all rendered Blaine speechless. He was completely blown away by the boy’s talent. Kurt was a star, and he shone bright as a soloist as well as a group member. 

“I do understand now why you think the Warblers are so unimaginative,” Blaine murmured to break the sudden tension.

Kurt paused for a moment, before taking a deep breath.

“Well, I do like the Warblers, there’s a certain charm about all-male accapella groups. But while in the New Directions, I could do whatever the hell I wanted, as you can see from the videos. And it felt like I was free. Like I could be myself.”

Blaine nodded in understanding. He thought about how Kurt didn’t really want to be in Dalton, and the bullying that made him come here, and the whims of fate that made them meet.

“Do you miss your friends?” Blaine whispered.

“I do. I miss them all the time. But I would never leave Dalton.”

“That’s a relief. If you left I’d miss you.”

They beamed at each other and Blaine reached for Kurt’s hand. He took it gently in his own, and caressed the back of it with his thumb. Kurt looked as if he wanted to say something, but he quickly changed his mind. 

“If I’m not mistaken, someone mentioned a manicure?” Kurt pronounced with a hopeful voice, squeezing Blaine’s hand.

In about two hours, Blaine’s nails were all trimmed a nice oval shape and covered with a thin layer of protective colorless polish. He wiggled the fingers on the left hand, but Kurt stopped him.

“They’re not dry yet.”

“Kurt, I have a serious question for you. Just remember, you have to be one hundred percent honest,” declared Blaine seriously.

“What is it?” Kurt’s breath hitched involuntarily.

“Is there anything that you can’t do? Seriously, you bake, sing, act, dance, knit, sew, cook, and now it turns out you can give manicures.”

“Shut up. You make me sound like a housewife.”

“Mrs. Hummel, may I move my hand now?”

“I’ll just cut your hand off with this nail file, so you never have to move it again!”

Blaine laughed, but didn’t move his fingers.

“Oh god, I’ve missed you. You know, we haven’t really talked for a whole week,” Blaine said quietly.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Kurt settled with his back to the headboard, and played a little with the small round candle, which was lit amongst the mess of the objects on the bed. He followed the tiny flame dance with his fingers, as if trying to catch the fire. Then he swiftly extinguished it with one quick motion. Blaine looked at Kurt intently, following his every move. When he realized that he was probably making Kurt uncomfortable with all this staring, Blaine softly blew on his nails, urging them to dry faster. 

Kurt seemed slightly hesitant, but then he just lay on his back, relaxing his body completely, and looked at the ceiling. He started talking in a voice that resembled a whisper, as if he was talking to himself.

“I wanted to tell you something. I called you actually, but it seemed a little impersonal talking about this kind of stuff over the phone. You know, you said we weren’t communicating on an open level. So, I’d like to say, I guess that sex talk helped me in a way. And the pamphlets that followed. I’ve read like, 6 pamphlets. And this one pamphlet was wonderful. It wasn’t written like the others, explaining what is normal to experience for a “young man of your age”. Not a single word about hair or… erections.”

His voice was firm, but Blaine saw that blush creep up Kurt’s neck. Oh sweet, innocent Kurt.

“This one was actually about the mental preparation. It was about how a lot of teenagers, especially gay, as opposed to what the media is showing, are not these sexually obsessed maniacs, overconfident supermen, but they’re actually pretty afraid and self-conscious. Because society made them fear that one act that makes them different. I never thought I would feel this way, but it made me feel less alone. “

“But what are you afraid of exactly? Are you self-conscious about your body? Kurt, that’s…” Blaine was so incredulous his jaw nearly dropped.

“No, it’s not my body,” Kurt cut Blaine off sharply at mid-word, but after a pause, continued softly “Well, maybe I’m a little bit self-conscious about my body, just in a way that every teenager is. But in reality, I’m self-conscious because of the intimacy, and I expect sexual intimacy will be something that makes me vulnerable, instead of powerful.”

He turned to face Blaine for a moment, as if searching understanding and support in his eyes.

“You know, Blaine, I always prescribed a great deal of importance to clothes. I have tons of notebooks covered in sketches of outfits, I dress up carefully even when I go to pick the mail. It’s something that I do, because clothes make me untouchable, they show everybody who I am. What I’m really afraid of is people seeing that inner part of me, that is covered by this shell of clothes. To open up and face rejection,” his voice broke a little at the last sentence.

Blaine’s first reflex was to comfort Kurt, tell him that he’s never going to fail. But he didn’t. He wanted Kurt to continue talking, it was one of the few times when Kurt really opened up, and Blaine was ready to listen.

“But I’m not afraid anymore, I’m not ashamed,” Kurt was talking more to himself now, as if to strengthen his own opinion, “My father mentioned sharing the first time with someone I really love, to use it as a way to connect to another person. He even said “when you’re 30 it is a great gift to yourself”. I was constantly worried that I’m gonna go to college and be the only virgin, because of this irrational fears. I don’t really care now, not at all. Age doesn’t matter, it’s feelings that matter. Plus, there is a way to make this whole sex thing very romantic.”

“Don’t you think the whole concept of virginity is deeply overrated?” asked Blaine tentatively.

Kurt lifted his head, as if he was surprised someone was even in the room.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… Haven’t you thought about it? Between gay people, who is a virgin, who is not? Does masturbation count as loss of virginity? What does it mean to be sexually active?” Blaine tried to stay calm, but was unable to stop asking all the questions. Kurt’s opinion was something that he wanted to hear immensely. He hasn’t exactly met a lot of people that he could discuss this question with.

“I don’t know. I guess everyone decides for themselves,” Kurt sprawled back on the bed, “I think being completely naked with someone, letting them touch you, would already count as a giant step.”

“That makes sense,” affirmed Blaine, watching as Kurt snuggled his head on the pillow and stifled back a yawn. Blaine checked the time on the phone and found out it was already past one.

“Maybe it’s more of a psychological thing,” Kurt murmured, his eyes already closing.

“Though you can’t really control your own thoughts,” he added, barely conscious.

When Blaine came back to the room, having thrown the garbage away, Kurt was deeply asleep.

Blaine carefully cleaned up the bed from all the manicure tools and unnecessary items. He looked at Kurt sleeping on their adjoined beds, his friend Kurt, and realized the fact that he was the most remarkable person Blaine has ever met.

His eyes caught sight of Kurt’s belly, under the accidentally raised shirt. Not even once the feeling of guilt crossed his mind, upon remembering what he did last time, when his imagination was left alone with thoughts of Kurt. Blaine was far too comfortable with his fantasies, and surely thinking about Kurt sexually was just a compliment to his astounding looks. And it meant very little.

What Blaine has seen in the videos and learned in Kurt’s speech tonight was a compliment to Kurt’s mind. And it was far more valuable.

He thought about Kurt with a big white wig on his head and sequins and glitter and high-heels, being himself for the whole world to see, fierce and powerful. How many different sides of Kurt were still unknown to Blaine? He could be proud and detached, passionate and caring, tender and sweet.

Looking at Kurt’s face, relaxed and graceful, he suddenly thought about kissing his lips. The idea was completely wild and made his heart pound twice as quicker. What if? Blaine really needed the magic of a sudden kiss, like one that is shared in fairytales. Easy, sweet, passionate, priceless, a kiss that resolves all the problems right away and guarantees a happily ever after. Just one kiss that would wake Kurt up and immediately make him admire Blaine in return.

Instead, Blaine tucked Kurt in and lay beside him to sleep himself.


	7. Original Song

The Warblers took their defeat with dignity, but it was obvious that they were sad about the outcome of the Regionals competition. Kurt and Blaine did such an amazing job singing the duet, the onstage chemistry was explosive and their voices mixed together perfectly. But after seeing the New Directions sing with such passion, the judges’ choice of the winner was obvious.

Kurt wasn’t sad for long. In fact, after Pavarotti’s funeral ceremony and the long walk around the Dalton grounds, Blaine stopped beneath a mighty oak and, smiling sheepishly, pressed his lips chastely against Kurt’s. Kurt smiled into the kiss, slid his tongue in between Blaine’s parted lips, and decided he was never going to get used to this feeling. His stomach fluttered as he realized how many times they sat under this oak before, and now they could kiss right under it whenever they wanted, because Blaine was finally his.

Blaine wasn’t sad at all. He knew it was a little insensitive in regard to Pavarotti and his fellow Warblers who put such great faith in him to win the competition, but the only thing he cared about right now was Kurt. His previous obliviousness about Kurt now transformed into a complete obsession. Kurt was a magnet that attracted him wherever he was. During classes the smallest things - a casually uttered French word, a reference to last-century fashion, a mention of a singing bird - all made him think of Kurt, and all his carefully accumulated concentration crumbled apart, as he remembered the taste of Kurt’s lips as they kissed the night before. He could sense his presence in the packed cafeteria, and immediately rushed to him, bumping into people, pushing his way quickly until he was finally there, beside Kurt, casually touching his shoulder or hand and craving to kiss him all over. Kurt would catch his eye, giggle and whisper “ _Not now, Blaine_ ” and the secrecy, the intimacy, the promise of a _later_ made Blaine’s heart beat just a little bit faster.

They decided not to make their relationship public for some time, because that way it felt more real, more theirs, more serious. But one day, after Kurt accidentally let a tiny fact about a certain kiss slip to Rachel, the news traveled at the speed of light, and soon all of the McKinley girls knew, and he was practically kidnapped by them from his dorm room that very same night for an evening of discussing Blaine’s sudden illumination and pretending not to hear Santana’s remarks about his perfect ass. 

This meant that Blaine was left alone. He took a long shower, singing at the top of his lungs, messing up lyrics and drifting from song to song, paying attention only to that great feeling of omnipotence that spread in his chest, like fresh butter on a hot toast. He sang into the shampoo bottle, and upon finishing, waved at the imaginary crowd of millions. Hair dryer in one hand, comb in the other one, Blaine held one last performance behind the mirror, when suddenly he met his own eyes in the reflection. A bubbly laugh escaped his throat and, to finish this complete silliness, he shamelessly winked at himself. After all, he was acting like a loony only because he was in love.

Afterwards he changed into sweatpants and t-shirt and returned to bed. Getting cozy under the sheets after a long day was the best reward, but it was still early to sleep. Blaine opened the laptop and checked Facebook. As customary, he poked back a few people, whished someone a happy birthday, scrolled through the newsfeed, lingered back to his page. Then it hit him. Why the hell not? Without thinking much, he changed his "Single" status to “In a relationship with Kurt Hummel”. He opened his iTunes, and tried to find the perfect song that would prepare him to the hurricane of responses that were on the way.

5 minutes later his phone buzzed with a new message.

From: Kurt

_Thank you very much! You just made a bunch of teenage girls shriek! My ears are permanently damaged… They won’t stop saying how cute we are!_

Blaine grinned and clicked on Kurt Hummel’s page, finding a happily accepted proposal. Seeing “Kurt Hummel is in a relationship with Blaine Anderson” on top of his page, no matter how ridiculously childish it seemed, made Blaine smile all impossibly wide.

He typed a quick message in response.

_But we are cute :)_

The replies were all sorts of fun to read. There were “congratulations”, and “finally”s, and “oh my god”s and a myriad of likes. Trent’s message made him chuckle “So what are you guys doing all locked up in your room now…hmm… I think I hear kissing noises”. Just as Blaine replied with “That’s from David and Wes’ room”, a sudden Skype call startled him.

“Hi, little brother!” Cooper’s blurry face appeared in the video chat.

“Hi, Coop.”

“So tell me, why do I have to find out about something that important from Facebook?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” replied Blaine and put out his tongue.

“Oh, shut up. So what happened? How did you finally managed to free your head from your ass?”

“You want the whole story? It all started in year 1960, when The Beatles were formed in Liverpool, a fact you are well aware of.”

“Cut the crap, squirt,” ordered Cooper, but his tone was friendly.

“…And half a century afterwards, Kurt Hummel pushed the doors of the common rooms open, and sang Blackbird with tears in his eyes,” Blaine sighed and decided to finish seriously, “And something touched me deep inside, and I felt as if I couldn’t live without him anymore.”

“I don’t know if you just made that up. It’s either terribly awful or really moving,” Cooper seemed genuinely confused.

“It’s what really happened. And then I kissed him.”

“What? In the common rooms while he was crying?”

Blaine laughed. As much as he loved joking around with his brother, he was probably one of the few who deserved to hear the whole story. Cooper told him "the ‘you move me’ thing was cool, bro, but cheesy as hell." Also he congratulated Blaine in finally getting the clues, when everyone else has been referring to Kurt and Blaine as an old married couple for months.

“So tell me, Blainers, now that you’re in a loving committed relationship, did you hide that stack of magazines in a safe place? I mean, the ones that I bought you for your sweet sixteen?”

Blaine groaned and covered his face with his hands. He would never admit to his brother that those magazines always resided under his mattress and have turned out to be a useful material for the dirty fantasies. Thankfully, the video suddenly went fuzzy and Cooper’s face disappeared briefly. It returned though, and Cooper stated that he had to go, and they quickly said their goodbyes.

Blaine sighed, but the thought of the magazines didn’t leave his mind. He closed the laptop, and lay on his belly to get them from under the mattress. He hasn’t actually managed to look at them in a while, afraid that Kurt was going to catch him again. He wasn’t going to jerk off at the first opportunity like an uncontrollable animal, but a quick look at pretty boys did no harm, right?

He opened it at random and found a page he really liked, a page on whose conscience lay a lot of orgasms. The boy in the picture was young, and his body was not as perfect as the other models’. That’s what Blaine liked the most, the relative truthfulness. He was sitting on the bed, a pair of boots that made his legs seem longer, with a hand resting on the spread thighs and an obvious erection hidden in a short pair of boxers. Blaine’s own cock twitched with interest, but he tried his hardest to ignore it.

The model wasn’t particularly handsome, but good lord was he sexy. He had a smirk on his face, a smirk that stated a clear dominance that could only be interpreted as _I will fuck you against the wall and you will scream with pleasure_. Blaine’s dick was now half-hard and he pressed the side of his palm to his boxers to relive some pressure. 

Just as Blaine thought to stop staring and close the magazine once and for good, a thought short-circuited his brain.

Kurt has the same exact smirk. That smirk that appears when he sees a mismatched scarf on a girl that states that she is clearly wrong. That smirk that emerged when Joseph failed to reach a high note during a Warbler practice. That smirk of pure superiority. Blaine imagined Kurt’s face mere inches away from his own while he lay pinned down to the bed, and his lips slowly curving out in that precise smirk. Oh no, and he was hard now, so hard just at the mere thought of Kurt on top of him, completely naked and fiercely possessive. It was only the second time he thought of Kurt that way, but it seemed clear now that dominant Kurt was his biggest fantasy.

He heard the key turn in the lock, and hurried to stuff the magazines back where they were and cover himself with a blanket.

“Hello, my dear friend and roommate,” Kurt greeted him from the door. He walked to the bed and gave Blaine a small peck on the cheek.

“Hi, did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, the best,” Kurt placed his bag on the bed, “But I don’t agree with the girls on the point that you seem taller when you’re on stage.”

“Hey! No allusions to me being short are allowed in this room!” Blaine tugged Kurt by the sleeve, and helped him get out of the jacket. Then grabbed his arm and tugged it too, and Kurt tumbled on top of Blaine with a loud yelp. He smacked Blaine on the arm in a playful manner, but then hugged him close.

“It’s okay, dear, at least I told them that your outstanding kissing skills compensate for the shortness.”

“Oh really? Which ones? These,” Blaine kissed Kurt gently, slowly, applying barely any pressure, “Or these?” he proceeded to open his mouth and hungrily lick at Kurt’s bottom lip, and then met his tongue, breathing harshly through his nose that was pressed into Kurt’s soft cheek.

Kurt was breathless. Every kiss was a blessing, every single one was perfection, and he would never get used to Blaine kissing him like that, with unadulterated enjoyment, as if he was savoring Kurt like an ice-cream and melted him with every lick. He wasn’t used to the flirting either, the teasing as if there was nothing to hide now, as if they knew each other all their lives. 

“Could you repeat that please? I didn’t quite get it,” Kurt said, and smirked.

Blaine seemed to freeze for a second, staring at his face with dark eyes, while Kurt’s heart was going crazy. Then Blaine reached for him, kissed him again, and pressed his hand to Kurt’s neck, urging him closer, until he was lying on top of Blaine. They kissed more, bumping a little bit into each other, licking and tasting, their mouths already feeling raw. They parted for breath, but Blaine didn’t stop, he pressed little kisses to Kurt’s cheek and jaw and neck. Kurt shivered at how good that felt and moaned right into Blaine’s ear. Blaine began to suck at his neck, tracing his tongue, while the fingertips were drawing unclear patterns on Kurt’s collarbone.

And suddenly a few things happened. Blaine reached up and kissed Kurt’s ear and nibbled at his ear lobe. Kurt’s hips snapped forward automatically at how good that felt and he realized that he was hard. He also realized that there was something nudging his thigh, and that meant Blaine was hard too.

The thought made him light-headed and he pulled away immediately.

“We, we need to cool off,” he squeaked in a high-pitched voice, praying he didn’t sound pathetic.

“Yeah, we do,” Blaine replied, exhaling hard, his pupils still black as darkness.

Kurt scrambled to the other part of the bed, and sat stiffly, still very red in face. He never thought dating a roommate would be so awkward. He had felt Blaine’s boner through layers of clothes. What should they do now?

Blaine tried to calm down, unsuccessfully. He thought of something to say, anything that could make the situation better, but there was nothing left in his mind besides Kurt’s smirk and how painfully turned on it made him, besides sexy models and hurriedly tucked magazines that could be easily discovered, and besides his enormous sense of guilt.

The moral battle inside of Blaine was eating him alive, until he sighed, and looking at his hands, began seriously. 

“Kurt, I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

‘When you were away, I was looking at some magazines that I have - I did not do anything, I was just looking,” he looked up apologetically, “I wasn’t even going to do anything. I just thought you should know. I don’t want you to accidentally find them and overthink, and get to the wrong conclusions.”

“Magazines?”

“Uhm, yeah.”

“Like… with men?”

“Pretty much.”

Kurt was silent for a moment.

“You know,” he started tentatively, “I think I speak for the both of us, when I say that I’m really new to all this relationship stuff. And sex stuff. And boundaries. I’m not going to restrain your freedom or something, and I know that they don’t mean anything to you, at least I hope so, but you thinking of other men is a little bit painful.”

Blaine was freaking out internally. He screwed everything up again, didn’t he? He succeeded in not only ruining his first real relationship, but also a precious friendship. He made a motion to reach for Kurt’s hand, as if by touching him he could express how sorry he felt, but stopped himself in the last second.

“…I actually never saw a magazine of that kind before,” Kurt muttered, averting his eyes.

Blaine’s eyes shot up to see a flush on his boyfriend’s cheeks. Kurt settled his back to the headboard and placed his hand where Blaine could easily reach him. What Blaine did was cuddle closer to Kurt and put his head in the nape of his neck.

“Do you want to see them?” he asked in a tiny voice.

Kurt nodded briefly. Blaine reached down and pulled out the magazines from their hiding place again.

There was a guy holding a whip on the first one and Blaine thought that if Kurt was just distressed earlier, now he’s going to think his boyfriend is some sort of pervert and become completely terrified. But he decided to be honest, no matter what. 

Kurt stared. Blaine turned the page. Kurt still stared. In silence, they looked at the equally gorgeous models in various positions, with different accessories, wearing a diverse amount of clothes. Kurt’s face was flushed red and in deep concentration. He looked like his goal was to memorize every little detail on all the pages.

When they reached a photograph of a stark naked guy standing under a shower, with his mouth open and an amazing perky ass on display, Kurt broke down and hid his face in his hands.

“How do you expect me to compete with this?”

Blaine immediately threw the magazine away and faced Kurt.

“Kurt, what? Who ever said it was a competition? I can’t believe I made you think that’s what it was! Kurt, there’s no competition, because you’re the only thing that matters to me! I just wanted to show you this stuff, because that’s part of who I am, or who I was,” he corrected himself quickly, “You may call me a pervert or something, but that’s just what I liked to do.” 

Blaine looked at Kurt, and tried to think of anything that will make him feel better, anything that will make this right. Kurt still had his face hidden in his hands and wasn’t responding, so Blaine got up and grabbed a black marker from his desk and hurried to the bed again.

“But now I don’t care anymore,” he announced, and took a random magazine, which happened to have the guy with the whip on the cover.

Kurt peeked through his fingers, and saw Blaine drawing a huge afro on the head of the model, and transforming the whip into a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Blaine, what are you doing?” Kurt finally asked with unmasked curiosity.

“I’m just… I don’t care about this stuff as much as I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you over something that stupid.”

He turned the page and drew a wizard-like beard and a space suit on another shirtless boy. Kurt was observing his moves with interest, as if he was a cat trying to understand a human that is reading a book. Blaine caught his eye and stretched out his hand, offering him the sharpie.

“Wanna try? It’s your turn.”

“No,” Kurt replied with a smile, “Give me the red one.”

They spent a good hour laughing and drawing, adding crazy details to the pages, trying to make every next picture more unique than the last one. The tension dissolved completely and Blaine mentally sighed with relief. He didn’t want to be a failure in this relationship. For a completely new relationship he already managed to commit plenty of unforgivable mistakes before it even started. He only hoped that Kurt wasn’t mad at him.

He peeked at Kurt’s new masterpiece, that featured the two men drinking tea, dressed in Victorian clothes. The punctilious attention to details was so undeniably Kurt’s style that Blaine couldn’t help laughing.

“God, Kurt, I love you,” the phrase escaped his mouth, but before he could panic and take it back, his heart told him not to. He loved Kurt, everything be damned, it was true and he felt it with every fiber of his being.

Kurt stopped drawing abruptly and turned to Blaine, the shock clearly written on his face. He glanced down to the guy Blaine was giving a makeover to at the moment, who had a gigantic bowtie and was holding an Adele vinyl record that was covering his entire, previously almost entirely naked, crotch area.

“I have no idea why, but I love you too,” Kurt declared, with a flush on his cheeks.

Blaine scooted closer and taking Kurt’s face in his hands kissed him long and sweet, and loved the way Kurt kissed back and hugged him by the waist, like he was tiny and fragile, and deserved the maximum of care.

Later they lay back on the bed full of caricatured porn magazines. Kurt played with the curls that escaped from the gel prison on Blaine’s temples, and Blaine counted the barely visible freckles on Kurt’s cheeks.

“I didn’t want to ruin your magazines, dear, really. The models were actually handsome,” Kurt chuckled, looking at the mess on their beds.

Blaine quirked his eyebrow in question.

“That’s why, so you can fulfill your primary instincts, from now on you are allowed to think about a certain boyfriend of yours. I don’t mind,” said Kurt with a fake firmness, until in turned into smiles and blushes, and then ducked his head into Blaine’s neck, in an attempt to hide himself.

“Wow, Kurt,” of all the things Blaine was expecting, this wasn’t even an option, “Can I borrow that pamphlet of yours? Because it seems to have turned your world upside down.”

“No, you have turned my world upside down. I don’t care because it’s you, I trust you and I love you,” Kurt whispered, his voice trembling a little, “It feels so good to say that,” he laughed breathlessly.

“I love you too,” Blaine stated, and added smugly, “And you can think of me too, if you want to, even with a whip or a pair of handcuffs, I won’t mind at all. Quite the contrary, actually.”

Kurt turned to face Blaine silently and gave him a meaningful look, before they both erupted into giggles.


	8. A Night of Neglect

In one month since the life changing kiss, Kurt and Blaine happily entered what Cooper called “the honeymoon phase”. Kurt secretly loved the sound of that.

They went on countless dates. There were sing-along concerts and theater plays, bad movies and fancy restaurants. There were moments when Blaine reached his hand to hold Kurt’s in the darkness, and Kurt would become light-headed with the realization that his hand was held in public, where anyone could see. There were smoothies and coffees in the park, when Kurt would take a sip off Blaine’s drink, and Blaine would afterwards take a kiss’ charge for each stolen drop. There were the corridors and libraries, the cozy alcoves and empty classrooms, amongst other secret spots in Dalton, where they would hide during breaks and lunch from their noisy classmates and the daily routine, and just talk about the silly things that were serious for them.

But they also loved to come home after a busy day, to their dormitory room, and snuggle in one of the beds. They chose a movie they both loved, one they knew all the lines of, so they could easily pause it anytime they wanted, just to share yet another delicate kiss.

Blaine met Kurt’s friends again during the benefit concert.

They were nice and supportive, asking curiously about Dalton and the Warblers. The girls were giggly and complimented Blaine’s manners and good looks. The guys were restrained, but friendly, and searched to make a connection with questions about videogames and football. 

Blaine loved the fact that he was so easily accepted into this strange group of people, and frankly he didn’t mind spending the whole evening chatting with them, though he did feel a bit lonely when Rachel stole Kurt away for a tete-a-tete. Blaine knew that despite all the bitter things Kurt liked to say about Rachel, he still had a soft spot for her, probably bigger than he imagined. 

They even accidentally met Kurt’s former bully, and sadly he hadn’t changed much. Blaine wanted to punch him so bad his hands itched to shut his insults up and finally pay off his boxing skills. He only managed to shove the guy once, but it earned him a thankful look from his boyfriend, so Blaine didn’t view it as a failed attempt.

That same day, the couple was invited to attend the traditional Friday dinner at Kurt’s house. It was the first time Blaine met Burt after the embarrassing talk they had at the tire shop, so Blaine was pretty nervous. His responses to Carole and Burt were overly polite, an unconscious reflex to the formal parties his parents used to throw. It wasn’t long until Kurt noticed how different Blaine was behaving and managed to calm him down, reassuringly squeezing his hand under the table and making quick and witty, awkwardness-relieving conversation. 

As a supportive father, Burt knew how much this simple dinner meant for Kurt, and tried hard to be welcoming, though deep down he was a little bit wary of his son’s choice. But he knew he wasn’t the one to judge Kurt’s feelings, he had been a teenager once, and knew how important and precious a first significant other was. Just after the salad was served, he started asking Blaine questions and during dessert shared stories about Kurt. 

To Kurt’s horror, Burt started to tell Blaine all about how he found out about their relationship even before Kurt confessed the whole story to him. He described in detail that one Friday when his son came home practically singing, and smiling so hard his cheeks must’ve hurt. He didn’t roll his eyes once, though the football game was on, and even allowed Burt to eat the greasy chicken wings. Something huge must have happened, but the word ‘solo’ didn’t arise in their easy conversation. So when Kurt sat him on the couch a week later, to tell him with fidgeting hands about ‘something important’, Burt replied that it certainly wasn’t a surprise, and turned the TV on to catch up with the news. Kurt seemed equally irritated and relieved. 

Blaine laughed at how Kurt’s cheeks tinted with embarrassment when Burt told the story, and how in revenge Kurt deprived Burt of the soufflé for the whole evening. He loved observing that easy relationship between father and son, because he simply didn’t have one. Just when Burt pouted and threatened Kurt with showing Blaine his baby photos, Blaine realized that he was having the best time, and he hoped someday to be wholeheartedly accepted into this group of people as well.

* * *

After giving Blaine one chaste kiss goodbye on the porch, Kurt returned to his room and fell face-down on the bed, exhaustion filling his muscles.

Memories of the day raced through Kurt’s mind: Mercedes in that amazing dress killing the audience with her voice, Santana yelling at Karofsky, Finn asking Blaine why he needed to put a napkin on his knees. Blaine. And once he thought of Blaine there wasn’t space left for anything else in his brain anymore. 

They were practically attached at the hip, they spent days and nights together, and Kurt still couldn’t get enough of him. Every minuscule detail turned into a ginormous matter if it had something to do with Blaine. Kurt loved that with every passing moment he learned something unique, something that no one else in the world knew about his boyfriend. 

Sometimes Blaine seemed tiny and fragile, but when he shoved Karofsky the fierceness in his eyes was unmistakable. Some might say he is composed and unreadable, but Kurt saw passion and devotion, that were shining through in every single action. When Cooper called on Skype, he always referred to Blaine as an adorable puppy, but Kurt knew about his maturity and sexiness that came to the surface every time Blaine pressed Kurt into the bed with his weight, his eyes unfocused with lust. 

But he could be also a million other things. Blaine could be jealous and paranoid. That one time a new barista at the Lima Bean winked at Kurt and complimented his outfit, Blaine wouldn’t stop asking self-deprecating questions all week long. He could even be unreasonable, kissing Kurt all over and distracting him on purpose when he had to study for an important test, and then close up on himself and childishly stop talking when Kurt got annoyed.

Kurt rolled on the bed and sighed. He couldn’t believe he was so blind when he thought that Blaine was perfect and omnipotent, that he was some kind of knight in shining armor that possessed answers to all existing questions or could save the world only with his kindness. Blaine certainly had his virtues, but his flaws were also ever-present, and, nevertheless, he was perfect for Kurt.

Sitting up on the bed, Kurt slowly began to take off his clothes. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, the pale skin of his arms and long legs.

Kurt believed that he wasn’t perfect either, not in that mirror, not in his mind. But Blaine loved him for who he was. This thought was enough to keep on living, to destroy everyone who ever threw a disapproving glance at him, to create beauty and love, to hope for a better future.

He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep himself from crying. It was pure luck that made him meet Blaine, wait for him, let him make Kurt feel this incredible feeling. He thanked fate, God, coincidence, or whatever was responsible for his happiness. 

Lying on the bed and staring in the mirror, Kurt imagined Blaine’s strong arms wrapped around him, giving him support and warmth. It was that precise moment that it struck him: his heart didn’t belong to him anymore, it was Blaine’s, and he could do anything he wanted with it, anything at all. And what could be more terrifying than giving your heart away to someone? 

He looked at his naked torso and the blanket tangled messily around his hips.

Could it be more terrifying than sharing your body?

Kurt smiled a little to himself and closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep.

* * *

At the same time, somewhere in Westerville, Blaine’s mind couldn’t leave him in peace. 

An insistent thought kept annoying Blaine through the days after the magazines incident, but he couldn’t give it much attention, because he was constantly around Kurt. Now that he was alone in his room, Blaine could let himself worry. The problem was that Kurt seemed truly heartbroken when he thought that Blaine expected fast progress in their relationship. Another astounding thing was the fact that deep down Kurt considered himself unsexy. So much time passed and Blaine couldn’t get the expression on Kurt’s face out of his head.

Blaine tossed on the bed, trying to get into a more comfortable position. He flipped the pillow and pressed his cheek to the cool side, sighing a little.

What should he do now? They spend a lot of time making out these days, and it felt truly amazing. Blaine kept his thoughts in control though, he was scared that Kurt still wasn’t on the same page, and didn’t let his mind wander. Sometimes when Kurt kissed him deeper and faster, Blaine slowed down and moved the lower half of his body away to hide any evidence of what was happening there. He didn’t want Kurt to be embarrassed, poor Kurt had had enough of that. If Blaine pressed into him instead, Kurt would certainly freak out, or get some ideas about Blaine wanting to move faster. But he was one hundred percent satisfied with their pace, he really was. He just wanted to show Kurt how breathtakingly sexy he was, how turned on he made Blaine by simply being himself. He hurled on his side and hugged the pillow close to his chest.

A sudden wild idea shook Blaine out of sleepiness entirely.

* * *

“Ok, I’m gonna go now! My practice ends at 8, so meet me near the dressing rooms, we’ll go grab a bite straight from there,” if Blaine’s voice was shaky, Kurt hasn’t noticed, because he was reading an incredible article about the new spring trends of suspenders. In some way, it was all part of the plan.

“Bye,” Kurt replied, his eyes leaving the page for a moment, only to see Blaine’s back disappearing through the door with those red gloves draped carelessly over his shoulders.

In an hour, Kurt started to get prepared for the date, thinking about wearing something with vertical stripes that were conveniently in fashion, according to the articles in Vogue he just read. Three different outfits all seemed to have exclusive advantages, so he laid them out on the bed hoping it would make the choice easier. Second outfit’s blue scarf with thin stripes accidentally slid off the side, and Kurt kneeled to retrieve it. Instead of the scarf, he saw Blaine’s fluffy towel lying forgotten on the floor between their beds.

It was practically impossible for Blaine to forget the towel so easily, and Kurt stared at it incredulously for a few moments, as if doubting its existence. He should bring it back to Blaine, that much was obvious.

After another 30 minutes Kurt finalized the details of the chosen outfit, and grabbing his bag and the towel, took off. 

* * *

Blaine was trembling from head to toe. The anticipation was eating him alive. He tried to turn his frustration into energy and beat the punching bag to half death, but the buzzing feeling of desire never really went away. He thought about his stupid little plan, and silently prayed that it would go alright.

He returned to the dressing rooms deliberately late. Taking off the soaked tank top, he heard the hurried footsteps of his friends that finished practice earlier leave the room, and the heavy sound of a door being closed. The soundless room only added more pressure, and Blaine’s hands began to visibly shake. He quickly removed his shorts, and left only in his underwear felt cold and exposed. A nostalgic well-known feeling of getting on the stage, stepping in the spotlight hit him like a wave. Trying to get rid of the gut-wrenching fear, he grabbed his shower accessories, and headed for the stalls.

The water fell heavy on his shoulders, bringing relief to the sore muscles. Blaine motionlessly soaked under the blessed stream for a few minutes, breathing hard and contemplating the last option to back off. Then he uncapped the shower gel and smeared some of the liquid on his palm.

Leaning his back on the wall of the shower stall, Blaine closed his eyes. Kurt. This was about Kurt and he would not think about anything but his boyfriend. His cock was half hard already just with the realization that the fantasy will soon become reality.

Blaine hoped the timing was right. Without wasting any second more, he grabbed his cock, and stroked it with the slick hand, hissing with sudden pleasure. It was too long since he has gone without this, the heat in his belly and relief of being touched. He hoped this wouldn’t end too soon. He spread his legs as far as he could and reached a hand behind, to the crack of his ass. The position felt weird, as he never fingered himself in the shower before. His elbow was pushing painfully in the wall, and he couldn’t reach down enough to spread himself. 

Blaine turned around and pressed his face to the cold tiles, the contrast of the hot water sharply intruding into his perception. He arched his back, exposing his ass the best he could. The fingertip, slick with body gel, was rubbing in the same familiar motion, easily stretching and relaxing his hole. 

Blaine thought of Kurt’s lips kissing his neck, sucking and biting a purpling bruise into his skin. He let go of his dick and settled the hand on his thigh, nails scratching a little at the toned muscle. If he kept stroking, he might have come just from the thought of Kurt behind him, surrounding him, being in control. Kurt’s ghost mouth kissed between his shoulders and moved south, following his spine with kitten bites of his teeth and flicking of his soft tongue, until he reached the two dimples right above the ass. Blaine imagined Kurt licking his lips at the sight of him spread so close and his fingers pumping fast in and out of his hole. The apparition of Kurt grabbed his ass, taking greedy handfuls of it, making Blaine’s breath hitch, and massaged the strong muscle, feeling it flex desperately because of him. 

‘ _You’re so eager for my cock_ ’, he breathed seductively, slapping Blaine lightly on the right cheek, and making him moan with sudden pleasure. What if the fingers buried deep in his ass were actually Kurt’s? Blaine’s hips thrust on their own accord and he shivered, struggling to keep himself from coming so embarrassingly soon. Kurt’s fingers would be much more delicate. He added a third one, when he felt something hard nudging his thigh. Maybe a little higher? Right, Kurt’s big cock, slick with lube and water, could be fucking right between his legs, poking at his balls, then sliding easily between his flaming ass cheeks. ‘ _Spread your legs for me, wider, and let me fuck you_ ’. The fantasy was so detailed, so real, Blaine’s legs nearly gave away under him. He leaned on the tiled wall with his whole body, breathing fast as if he was drowning.

The fingers were losing the rhythm, because his hips were thrusting uncontrollably. Blaine’s cock was so achingly hard, that he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed release, and he needed it fast. The nails were digging into the flesh, so deep it hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to the unadulterated lust that filled Blaine’s blood.

And then he finally heard the sound of footsteps, and his heartbeat darted to match the speed of light. He had to act, now.

* * *

Kurt gently pushed the door open, and realized there was no one in the dressing rooms. Was he late? Was Blaine even here? He took a few steps behind the row of lockers and spotted a pile of clothes on one of the benches. Even if there wasn’t a little bowtie on top of the pile, Kurt could tell right away that the clothes belonged to Blaine. He smiled a little to himself.

The water of the shower echoed in the room and Kurt strolled in the direction of the sound. He could hang the towel over the wall of the first stall, so Blaine could notice it when he’ll finish showering.

Kurt approached the blue tiles and spotted the first shower was working. It had to be Blaine. The curtain was only half closed, but from this angle Kurt couldn’t see anything. He involuntarily squeezed the towel in his hands and blushed, turning on his heels. The reasonable thing to do would be to leave, right? A sudden moan, so familiar, but so much louder than usual made Kurt’s stomach flip and breath hitch. He heard this moan many times before, he heard it right into his ears, when he was biting and sucking on Blaine’s neck during their most memorable make out sessions. What is Blaine doing there? Kurt’s fingers clenched into fists, he was squeezing the towel so hard it hurt a little.

Kurt’s feet were already taking little steps, when the boy realized that he couldn’t leave, couldn’t stop, couldn’t control himself. That was the perviest thing he’d ever done, and somehow he continued walking, eyes fixed on the gap the curtain shower gave away, in nearly a trance-like state.

Another little step and Kurt dropped the towel altogether. It was indeed Blaine’s stall. Blaine was flushed red, his eyes closed and face scrunched up as if in deep pain. He was moaning, breathing out desperate “ah-ah” sounds and fingering himself so hard his hips were trashing into the wall of the stall, his ass on display and Kurt’s eyes couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t even blink. Blaine looked like an animal in heat, lost in his instincts, and suddenly he reached his right hand to the front and Kurt saw him jerking fast and hard.

“Fuck, so good, ah, Kurt!” with a final scream Blaine was coming, his body spasming all over and cock shooting come on the blue tiles. Kurt reached a hand to his flushed face, blood drumming in his ears and a single thought ‘ _my name_ ’ in his brain. When Blaine’s body finished trembling, he brought his right hand to the mouth, licked it clean and only then opened his eyes.

Kurt turned around and ran out of the shower, before Blaine could see him. He nearly slipped and fell, because he couldn’t see where he was running, bumping into lockers and benches. With a hand squeezing over his heart, his mind wondered why he wasn’t even the tiniest bit mad.

He slammed the door of the dressing room shut behind him, and leaned on it to catch his breath. Kurt’s cheeks were hot, and his eyes widened when he suddenly realized that he had never been this turned on in his entire life. 


	9. Born this Way

“Oh, Blaine, honey, no! That’s hideous. You shouldn’t use this word, even if it gives you a ‘z’!”

It was a Tuesday night, and surprisingly, Kurt and Blaine were playing Scrabble.

“I know you think fezzes are a crime against humanity, but you should be proud of me! It is a word related to fashion, something that you love even more than myself!”

Kurt smacked Blaine on the shoulder, barely suppressing his laughter. In revenge, Blaine made a move to tickle Kurt, but he ducked away, and soon they both fell on the floor, jostling and giggling. Blaine attacked Kurt’s sides, while Kurt made a series of embarrassing high-pitched sounds and started grabbing at Blaine’s hands to keep them away. Then, he accidentally rolled onto the scrabble board, scattering the little tiles and mixing the letters. Blaine laughed at Kurt’s pouty face of a person who ruined an evening worth’s of linguistic creativity and gave up, finally stopping the tickle war. 

They were breathing heavily, when Blaine suddenly reached his arms to pull Kurt closer, and Kurt automatically snuggled his head into Blaine’s chest. Softly humming to himself, he took some letters and slowly arranged them until they formed a necklace which spelled “SILLY” on Blaine’s collarbone. He touched them one by one saying the word out loud.

“You’re silly, Blaine.”

“No, actually, you’re the silliest, Kurt,” Blaine replied, booping Kurt’s nose.

“Kiss me,” ordered Kurt, smiling faintly only with the corners of his mouth.

“Anything for you,” obliged Blaine, leaning down to meet Kurt’s lips.

* * *

Truthfully, Blaine had no idea what was happening.

Kurt seemed to be acting different lately, which was both expected and surprising. Blaine caught dozens of stolen glances on himself, when they were working in the library, drinking coffee, singing in practice, driving in one of their cars, meeting their friends, smearing face cream on each other’s cheeks, getting ready for bed. Kurt’s fleeting looks were tentative yet daring, naively curious yet appraisingly experienced.

When they kissed, Kurt’s lips seemed to savor, taste, memorize, and take even more than possible, but when parting, he often blushed and avoided eye-contact. When they cuddled in bed, Kurt’s hands grabbed, stroked and mapped out, learning by heart all the skin that was accidentally revealed, even undoing a few buttons more on his own shirt, pressing impossibly closer to Blaine. But when their breaths turned harsh and heartbeats grew erratic, Kurt would pull away completely and lay on his stomach, hiding his face and barely touching Blaine’s skin, only the tips of his fingers slowly tracing complicated patters on his boyfriend’s arms. 

Of course, Blaine knew what might have prompted a reaction like this, but still he had no idea what this reaction meant.

The events of the exact day when everything changed were recalled vaguely, as if it didn’t happen to Blaine, but to some stranger. Not much seemed logical or even real. For weeks Blaine had been tortured by lust, and suddenly his constant restraint had been freed, and his body took the opportunity and surrendered to every whim of his imagination, which all resulted in a catastrophic outcome. The idea itself was crazy, he couldn’t even imagine a world where purposefully getting yourself caught masturbating over thoughts of your boyfriend by said boyfriend, would lead to the previously mentioned boyfriend’s self-esteem getting higher, without any odd tension surfacing in the relationship.

Blaine was aware of the fact that he didn’t make the brightest decisions while under pressure.

Various memories glued together to form a picture, the frame of which was still blurry. The towel lying soaking on the floor between the shower stalls. The echo of the heavy steps. The pile of clothes on the bench. The empty corridor. Nervousness, fake nonchalance, nibbling sense of guilt because of the ruined date. The heavy door of their room. Kurt’s slumped back over the sink. Kurt’s eyes meeting his, reflected in the mirror of the bathroom. Kurt’s face red and obviously freshly splashed with abundant amounts of water. The collar of his shirt undone, and sleeves rolled. Silence. Blaine’s fake banter, his easy questions. Kurt’s short replies, avoidance. Kurt’s headphones. Blaine’s toothbrush. Undoable homework. Kurt’s sudden passionate kiss goodnight. Falling asleep.

Blaine thought about a strategically complicated game of chess, where you can choose whether to attack or defend, but no matter what, you must respond. He had made his move, now he was waiting for Kurt’s. 

* * *

A few days later, Blaine was sitting in the front row of McKinley’s auditorium, staring at the heavy curtains which hid the stage from view. Shadows were dancing in the little gap between the drapery and the floor, and Blaine wondered who exactly was moving there, preparing to step forward to meet the audience, ready to make the defining move. 

To say that he was nervous would be a huge understatement. He knew that Kurt had spent the last days practicing something special, and naturally Blaine worried it might be something to do with their relationship. Actually, Kurt didn’t tell him anything about this performance. The only fact that he revealed was that the New Directions invited him over, because he had a very distinctive feature they might use to make the show unprecedented. Maybe everything will turn out to be innocent after all.

Suddenly, the curtains opened, and Blaine’s eyes immediately glued to Kurt. He was standing alone in the spotlight, his hair stylishly coiffed, his face a mask of madness. The music started with loud beats and Blaine immediately recognized the tune, urging his own foot to stop tapping to the catchy rhythm.

Kurt started dancing, moving his arms and hips to the beat, singing the first lines of Born This Way, his eyes rolling, but never once stopping on Blaine.

And then the girls appeared out of nowhere, and pulled at the sides of that red checked shirt right in front of him. The black letters on Kurt’s white t-shirt were clear, big, unmistakable. They hit Blaine’s brain like a bolt of lightning.

Blaine lost it.

Through the whole performance he couldn’t sit still, clapping to the beat, blood boiling in his veins. Although the lights of the stage were blinding him, his eyes still followed every move of Kurt’s body in the group, registering only the rhythmic flexing of his biceps.

Kurt’s devilish smile and mad eyes finally darted to him, high on adrenaline.

And then Kurt’s sweaty checked shirt landed right in Blaine’s face.

* * *

Blaine tries to hold tight onto the steering wheel, but Kurt’s damp cold hands are all over him. 

Kissing backstage, kissing in the corridors, kissing near the car. Blaine loves kissing, but not when it can lead to a potential car crush, killing both him and his boyfriend. Kurt’s currently leaning heavily to the driver’s side, sucking sloppily at Blaine’s neck, whispering a stream of nonsense words. 

“Hey, Kurt, no, I’m driving!” Blaine’s protesting too weakly, but he can’t do anything about it.

“I don’t care,” slurs Kurt, biting at Blaine’s ear, and that’s the last straw. Blaine hastily pulls over to the side. This is not his Kurt at all. 

They find themselves parked in front of a deserted playground.

At once, Kurt’s hands swiftly reach to unbutton Blaine’s shirt. Which makes Blaine’s brain shortcut for a second, because Kurt is never this straightforward, and the effect he’s producing is clearly visible in Blaine’s pants. Trying to hold on a rope of sanity, Blaine bats Kurt’s hands away from his exposed chest. But instead, Kurt finds a way to quickly pull Blaine’s cardigan off and throw it carelessly onto the backseat.

“Kurt, stop, what are you…”

“You think I don’t know?” Kurt explodes, fingers gripping forcefully at Blaine’s sides, rage and lust mixed in his eyes so densely that it’s impossible to tell them apart, “You think I’m so innocent that I have no idea what are you thinking about in that head of yours all day long?”

“What…”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t want me to see you jerk off in that shower, f-fucking yourself on your fingers like the world was ending…” Kurt’s trembling hands are back on his chest, pulling the shirt apart, rapidly descending lower.

“Kurt, you’re too excited to talk normally,” Blaine says steadily, doing everything in his power to prevent his voice from breaking.

“But you’re hard,” whines Kurt, cupping the evidence in Blaine’s pants, “And I want you, so much. Let’s just do it and get it over with!”

“No,” manages to reply Blaine, suppressing the urge to thrust up because of the amazing brand new feeling of Kurt’s hand right on his dick, “We’re not doing it in my car of all places, not because of what I did or because of your performance,” Blaine shoves Kurt’s hand away from his lap, “What’s happened to you?! Getting it over with? That’s not you talking, Kurt.” 

With the corner of his eyes, he sees Kurt’s shoulders slump down. He leans back entirely, leaving Blaine disheveled and suddenly cold.

The pain in his chest is too sharp. He can’t look at Kurt right now, his whole body is shaking in the fear that the ginormous frustration will pop the tiny residue of self-control. 

Blaine scrambles out of the car, slamming the door shut forcefully. He walks quickly away and into the playground, wanders in circles, having no idea where he’s heading, and suddenly finds himself near the swings. He has just stormed off, but it feels like at least half an hour has passed. Lowering himself on the left swing, he sighs heavily. What had he done?

Trying to rearrange the clumsy buzz of thoughts, Blaine stares to where his car is parked, with the lights off. Kurt is sitting there alone in the dark. The image popped up in his brain makes shivers run down Blaine’s spine. 

He didn’t want to yell at Kurt, not at all. He was wrong. Now he sees it all clearly. All his actions looked like he kept pushing Kurt for sex, because he couldn’t control himself, like he was some kind of animal in heat. Thinking he was just educating Kurt was a disguise to hide his obvious interest. Of course Kurt didn’t hold up to the pressure. His innocent, shy Kurt, who despised “those movies”. The realization of the enormity of Blaine’s fault splashes over him. He basically corrupted Kurt. And now Kurt wanted to “get it over with”? For the sake of Blaine?

Looking at the lights turning on in the distant car, and Kurt moving to the back seat, Blaine shudders. Was his interest completely normal, or did he really unconsciously become some kind of pervert? He was beginning to get scared of himself.

Brushing a hand against the chain, his skin screams at the sharp pain of the freezing steel. A puff of breath escapes into the cold air, and Blaine’s teeth chatter. 

Only then, he looks down at himself and realizes how much of a mess he is right now. The cardigan is gone and the undone bowtie loosely hangs around his neck, the creases are scarring the unbuttoned shirt, untucked from the rumpled pants. He looks completely ridiculous sitting on a swing in the middle of the playground with only the light of the street lamp illuminating his exposed belly. Blaine quickly crosses his arms. _Why are you running away all the time?_ , a quick question flashes in his mind. 

Talking. All they need is talking.

The warmth that greets him when he opens the backseat door is one of the best rewards. 

Kurt is there, snuggling with the cardigan, unshed tears shining in his eyes. It’s a sight that Blaine wishes he would never see again, and he silently seats near his boyfriend, reaches to hold his hand.

“Kurt, I’m…”

“I’m sick of this… this dance between us,” interrupts Kurt with a deep sigh. He looks irresistible, his white t-shirt hugging his chest closely, cheeks blushing pink, hair ruffled. Blaine notices the straining denim below the belt, and Kurt’s wide spread legs. He turns away, hoping that Kurt won’t see the arousal in his eyes, hoping that he could concentrate for a second in order not to ruin their relationship once again.

“Then talk to me, please. Tell me what you want.”

“I’m sorry,” sobs Kurt.

“You don’t have to be sorry, we kind of messed it up together. I know I acted like an idiot for sure. I… did that on purpose, obviously. And I’m a total moron. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for… corrupting you? I was convinced that it will give you self-esteem, but I never wanted it to be a challenge to fulfill,” Blaine spits it all out in one breath, unsure if his speech is coherent enough for Kurt to understand, “I’m sorry for pushing you into something you didn’t want, Kurt. It was never my intention.”

“I … forgive you. And I’m sorry too,” Kurt’s words rush like a torrent, ahead of his thoughts, “And you definitely didn’t corrupt me, Blaine. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I just couldn’t get it out of my head, and this past week was so lust-driven I couldn’t even think about anything else. I’m so turned on all the time. I thought it was because of what you did, but no, I just. I guess I’m really ready,” Kurt seems to calm a little bit, and ducking his head, continues, “I’m sorry, it’s… not that important. The important thing is trying to understand you better. And talking. So you can understand me.”

Kurt’s breathing shakily, and stealing unsure glances at Blaine. The sight makes him smile earnestly, to which Kurt responds with a smile of his own, clearly relieved.

“I love you, Kurt,” Blaine says earnestly, and hugs him close.

Relief washes over Blaine too, as he feels Kurt’s cheek and his smile against his neck, and he holds Kurt a little bit longer, squeezing reassuringly at his shoulders.

They part, and Blaine bumps his forehead against Kurt’s, shaking his head at how unbelievable the whole situation actually is. They both clearly want each other, but are avoiding making the first move. It sounds cliché, but he has never seen a teenage movie with two scared virgin gay boys, that’s for sure. He laughs breathlessly, and nuzzles close to the soft skin of Kurt’s cheek, not ready to let go of him yet. He has become so dependent on Kurt, he feels how powerful Kurt is right now, possessing Blaine’s mind and his heart…

As he gives him an Eskimo kiss, he hears Kurt let out a tiny gasp, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the entire world.

The backseat of the car is a compact place, where the closeness of their bodies is enhanced. The warmth radiating from Kurt’s chest is so pleasant, in contrast to the earlier coldness of the street, that Blaine can’t help but press even closer, embracing Kurt in his arms, stroking slowly at his back.

Blaine has a sudden urge to look Kurt right in the eyes, to see if the love he feels would reflect back, and Kurt’s gaze is sensual and innocent, hesitant. It’s enchanting, and Blaine is lost in those eyes, when he finally surrenders and leans in and presses his lips to Kurt’s deliciously parted ones. It’s so familiar and easy – kissing Kurt, that he gets lost in the wetness and hotness of his mouth, in their tongues sliding together in a perpetual dance, in his hands caressing Kurt’s back. He doesn’t notice Kurt’s breath speeding up, nor his wildly pulsating heartbeat …

Pressing a hand to Kurt’s lower back he feels his hips thrust, and involuntarily, on instinct, shifts closer, until they’re flushed against each other in the awkward small space of the car. It feels so good, feeling Kurt’s hardness against him, knowing that Kurt is turned on by him.

It is wrong, but he can’t help it. Blaine wants to kiss a little bit longer, to feel this intimate moment imprinted in his skin. He starts kissing more forcefully, and the harshness of Kurt’s voice as he moans against his mouth between kisses is the ultimate seduction.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Blaine whispers against him, kissing at his jaw and throat, savoring the smell of Kurt’s sweat. 

“Please, Blaine, yes,” Kurt chants over and over again like a mantra.

With the corner of his eyes he sees Kurt slipping a hand between them, no doubt trying to adjust himself. In that exact moment Blaine sucks the skin of Kurt’s neck into his mouth, nipping at it a little with his teeth and lips, getting lost in the taste. 

And all of the sudden Blaine feels Kurt’s body shiver in his arms, as he starts to come, Kurt’s face contorted in ecstasy, brows furrowed and mouth wide open, flushed cheeks, sweaty skin, loud moans of pleasure ringing in Blaine’s ears. The sight is so beautiful and hot that Blaine can’t look away, wants to make Kurt come again and again as soon as he’s finished. Kurt’s eyes are fogged with haziness of the bliss, damp as the steamy air inside the car.

Breathing unevenly, as soon as he comes back from cloud nine, Kurt seems to be absolutely confused by what just happened. He looks down, at the big stain on the front of his pants, and gripping Blaine’s arms, leans on him with sudden exhaustion. 

“I couldn’t help it any longer, I’m s-sorry,” Kurt says, stuttering, “Oh god. I ruined everything? This was supposed to be something special shared between us, and it just happened like this.”

Embracing Kurt with both of his hands, Blaine kisses his forehead, hoping the familiar gesture will reassure him. Kurt is nuzzling into Blaine’s chest, pliant and warm and perfect.

“Kurt, nothing goes according to plan. We both are masters at awkward situations, aren’t we? And who says it wasn’t special? It was amazing, because I feel so close to you right now. I feel happy because you’re not mad at me, you don’t think I’m a freak or a pervert. I’m just a boy, like you. I want to share everything with you, when the time comes. And it will come naturally.”

A tiny teardrop escapes out of the corner of Kurt’s eyes, but Blaine knows it’s from happiness. 

“Please, never apologize for this,” Blaine says, cupping his cheek, “For looking so beautiful.”

He finally feels Kurt relax in his arms.

And though this feels like heaven, Kurt must be really uncomfortable. Blaine wonders if there’s tissues left in the box on the dashboard.

* * *

The next morning, when Blaine wakes up, the remainders of the vivid dream still linger on his eyelids. He was holding a treasure in his arms, lying on some sunny beach of a faraway island. When he finally rises to consciousness, Blaine still feels wrapped in the summer hotness, as if he’s an overheated cocoon of blankets. Kurt is curled in his embrace, his back tightly pressed against Blaine’s chest. Being the big spoon to his boyfriend is quickly turning into Blaine’s favorite thing to do.

Kurt’s soft thin hair is tickling him, and Blaine suppresses the urge to giggle. Instead, he reaches closer, and starts slowly placing tiny butterfly kisses on the back of Kurt’s neck. It’s not long before Kurt’s even breath turns into happy sighs, and he stirs in Blaine’s arms.

“Hey,” says Blaine against Kurt’s ear and grins, when Kurt yawns in response, “Sleep well?”

“Mhhmm,” replies Kurt, reaching his head back to snuggle against Blaine’s cheek, then turns his whole body and buries himself against Blaine, sighing in content. But when Blaine reaches to kiss him, Kurt suddenly backs away.

“No, morning breath,” Kurt crinkles his adorable upturned nose, and Blaine’s heart involuntarily speeds up its beats. This is his Kurt.

And now is the moment.

“Kurt, I wanted to ask you something,” Blaine’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” Blaine sees the twinkle in Kurt’s eyes, and it spreads a honey-warm feeling in his chest.

“Will you go to the Dalton prom with me?” and it’s kind of an expected question, really. The council of the Warblers already assigned them a romantic duet to sing weeks ago.

“Yes, yes!” Kurt squeaks in happiness, but quickly drops back down on the bed, “Only if it’s not right now. Cause right now I just wanna lay here with you forever. Until the end of time.”

“Sounds perfect,” says Blaine, managing to steal a kiss from Kurt’s soft lips, all the morning breath in the world be damned. By the third kiss Kurt stops protesting, and Blaine feels his heart squeeze with what can simply be described as too much happiness.


	10. Warbler Prom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus we come to the end of this story. It took me months, and I know style-wise it morphed greatly, and if you read it from the beginning it feels like a little blind puppy that turns quickly into a Great Dane, but thank you for sticking around for this, I appreciate it very much!

Kurt was sitting by the piano in the empty hall. The free dance of his fingers on the white ivory keyboards playing a melodic tune, so familiar and graceful, made him straighten up even more on the stool. He paused before pressing down on several keys in an abrupt staccato, and finished the song.

Playing made him think, and some time to think was exactly what he needed right now. The cheerful sunlight of spring streamed through the window, while little sunbeams reflecting from his cufflinks were chasing each other on the polished surface of the piano. He couldn’t gather his thoughts, couldn’t concentrate this time. Flipping through several sheets of music he found a sad song that had a melancholic overtone. His fingers started elegantly, slowly pausing and prolonging their stay on the keys where it seemed necessary. But soon the left hand refused to obey and follow the right’s lead, and Kurt stopped at mid-note.

A heavy sigh escaped through his lips. He couldn’t understand what was happening to him.

He thought of Blaine, his contagious smile. He thought of music, the purity on the sounds. He thought of sex, now an almost obtainable wish. He thought of spring, its light footprints in his life.

With the corner of his eye, he saw late Pavarotti’s empty cage, with its little door wide open, the gateway that sets free. Kurt turned to stare at it, and more thoughts came rushing to his mind, like a sudden unleashed torrent, making him bathe in the freshness and the force. 

He thought about liberty. He thought about power. He thought about love. And once again, he thought about Blaine. Kurt’s hands reached the keys without hesitation, and played. The tune was raw but easy, profoundly sincere. He didn’t know where the melody came from, he didn’t know if it was supposed to be sad or happy, but his heart made him continue.

He played. Repeating the arpeggios over and over again, getting stuck, and experimenting with keys, brushing off mistakes. He couldn’t stop.

When Blaine found him in the hall, Kurt was smiling quietly to himself, and his eyes were shining like they never had before.

"Are you ready to practice our duet?" Blaine asked, lowering himself next to Kurt on the stool.

"I think I am," Kurt smiled.

* * *

In hindsight, Kurt should’ve predicted how awkward it must be. He was blushing furiously, and his nervousness already manifested in the way he was ruthlessly scratching at the sticker of a poor shampoo bottle he has begun mindlessly assaulting as soon as they entered that particular aisle.

They had a whole elaborate plan with tiny back-up plans, because they both took this matter rather seriously. They decided to skip the Wednesday morning P.E. class to get here, in part due to the fact that the little corner shop would be practically empty. But now that they were here, Kurt didn’t know how the lack of people could help assuage his roaring mind. 

Blaine was standing right next to him practically immobile and staring at the same shelf, eyes transfixed, and he clearly wasn’t feeling much calmer. Kurt observed him as he swallowed a lump down his throat, and immediately prohibited himself to think of his boyfriend’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Not here, not now. 

If the bottle of shampoo were a person, by now it would definitely require medical attention. Kurt breathed out and abruptly returned the bottle back to the shelf.

"Just take something," he whispered, voice breaking mid-word.

"Uhm," Blaine let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and took the bright red box.

Ribbed for extra pleasure. Kurt’s face flushed as red as the box itself, and he felt himself getting dizzy.

"Oh god," Kurt squeaked loudly, making Blaine jump up, "I think we need something more simple for now."

"For now," Blaine echoed, his voice uncharacteristically high.

"Yes," Kurt nodded, turning slightly to look Blaine in the eyes, to catch some substantial proof that they actually had a previous discussion and mutual agreement on the topic. Blaine’s eyes were pleading and searching, and he was blushing too. He looked so strangely adorable, shy and overwhelmed, completely mirroring Kurt’s own state of mind. At that, Kurt couldn’t help but smile a little, half-hysterical half-amused. Blaine smiled too, and shook his head. They truly were a couple of silly fumbling virgins.

"For our first time," Blaine whispered again, still smiling softly, though his tone was now much more calm. More serious. They have discussed it, they talked about it at length, but Kurt still felt his stomach do a somersault. The prospect was within reach now, and Kurt was losing it with every passing second.

His heart was beating wildly, as he stretched his arms clearly aiming at the light-blue box.

"Kurt," Blaine croaked, covering his hand with his own in an attempt to stop him.

"It says sensual, why can’t we take sensual? I like sensual," Kurt blabbered back at him, on the verge of losing his mind. Though they were completely alone, and the cashier desk wasn’t even visible from here, he felt as if a whole crowd of people was staring at him.

"The size," Blaine giggled, indicating the sticker in the corner of the box.

And yes, XXL was definitely an exaggeration.

"Please pretend that right now I’m my uncool identical twin," Kurt covered his face with his hands. He’d rather switch places with that non-existent twin this very second, if this whole mission of buying condoms continued in the same manner. Suddenly, he felt Blaine’s reassuring hand pat gently on his back.

"Come on, Kurt… Actually, I don’t know if you’re flattering or making fun of me, but I think, uhm, medium would be fitting alright… for me," his eyes widened momentarily, "But I don’t know for you though…" 

Blaine had the discretion of not glancing down, for which Kurt was immensely grateful. But in that exact moment there was no doubt that he was thinking about the size of Kurt’s dick, and Kurt was a millisecond away from collapsing. He realized too late that Blaine was still producing sounds that resembled very much to the act of talking.

"Maybe we should start with the large ones first, I don’t know if… I’ve only ever, uhm, seen you that one time, but judging from…" he was scarlet-red in the face, and probably sweating under that uniform, "Oh god, Kurt, help me out here."

"Stop talking, Blaine, please," Kurt’s voice was verging on Mickey Mouse level of high-pitched, and in a sudden panic attack, he randomly grabbed seven different boxes and all but shoved them in the basket, simultaneously turning on his heels.

The cashier didn’t say anything. What she did do, was raise her left eyebrow uncharacteristically high, and stare at both of them with an unblinking gaze. Kurt wondered if she’s like one of those people depicted on famous paintings, who seem to follow you judgingly with their eyes even if you walk away. Only the electric fan was buzzing too loudly in the silence of the shop.

"That’d be all?" the cashier suddenly asked, with unmasked amusement.

Blaine tentatively and impossibly slow reached to grab a pack of Twix, and carefully put it on the counter next to the seven boxes, all this time staring transfixed at the cashier in the eye, as if checking that he was doing everything right. Bizarrely, Kurt thought of lion-tamers. One wrong movement and you’re dead. He swallowed a lump down his throat. 

The moment didn’t get any less tense as they paid and received their embarrassing receipt and put the items in a bag and exited the shop as silently as they could.

"Well, we survived that," Blaine stated a little bit too joyfully for it to be sincere, on the way to the car, just as Kurt frantically fumbled in his pockets for the keys. He couldn’t find them anywhere, they were not in his back pockets, not in the jacket, where the hell did he put them? In the haste of it all he suddenly dropped the bag. It fell with a dull thud between them, and the vanilla fragrance yellow box fell out and landed almost on Kurt’s boots.

As ridiculous as the whole situation actually was, somehow the tension suddenly snapped like a string cut by sharp scissors and Blaine started laughing so hard, that Kurt couldn’t help but laugh too. It wasn’t funny at all, but they continued laughing for a good five minutes, and by the time they were done, they were breathless and Blaine had his arms around Kurt’s waist, as much for fondness as for support.

"We’re a complete and utter mess at this," Kurt stated, still laughing and wiping tears from the corner of his eye.

"We’re gonna get better, love," Blaine whispered, eyes shining, as he pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek, "So much better."

* * *

It was the evening before Prom night. Kurt was laying on the bed, with his head resting gently on Blaine’s lap. He had been intently fabricating two elaborate matching boutonnieres. The process would probably speed up if he were sitting by the table like a serious crafter, but Kurt had no intention of ever leaving the heaven on earth that was the little nest that he had weaved for himself in Blaine’s warmth.

Kurt still had one question that insistently nibbled at his conscience. He definitely needed to know the answer, but he didn’t want to upset Blaine by reminding him of something he strived so hard to forget. He looked up at his boyfriend, who was reading and simultaneously chewing a Twix bar as gracefully as only he could. The preppy Dalton boy.

"Are you really okay with going to Prom?"

It took a moment for Blaine to understand Kurt’s concern. He closed the book and put it on the nightstand. The bright red boutonniere suddenly felt heavy in Kurt’s hand.

"Yes," Blaine said after what felt like an eternity, "It’s Dalton, after all. We’ll be completely safe. To tell you the truth, I’ve had some concerns about triggering memories, but…"

He sighed, passing a hand through his hair, ungelling it a little bit. He was looking at Kurt, his eyes sincere and deep.

"I don’t care. Because I’m going with you, Kurt, and you make me so much stronger. It’s going to be brand new memories for the two of us, and we’re going to have so much fun."

There was unmistakable conviction in Blaine’s voice, and Kurt couldn’t help but relax against him. Smiling softly, Blaine offered him half a bar of Twix, which Kurt took carefully between his lips. It was all chocolaty deliciousness that made him momentarily close his eyes, savoring, until he felt that Blaine has moved his head closer to him. His steady warm breathing against the sensitive spots of his neck sent a sudden shiver down Kurt’s spine.

"Plus, I know that this time after Prom nothing bad will happen," Blaine murmured in that low voice that always made Kurt’s toes curl, "Only good things planned."

Kurt could only blush at that, the beat of his heart deafening in the private galaxy of his existence.

* * * 

The evening had the best start Blaine could’ve ever imagined. Kurt descended the staircase like an angel descending from heaven, all rosy cheeks and deep blue eyes, suit tailored to perfection. With slightly trembling hands he pinned his chic handmade boutonniere to Blaine’s breast pocket. Blaine offered Kurt his hand and asked, with the last words left from how speechless Kurt made him:

"Shall we?"

"We shall," Kurt responded breathlessly, and took ahold of Blaine’s hand, the same way he did all those months ago.

* * *

They stumble back in their room in the wee hours in the morning.

Kurt doesn’t even remember the title of the duet they sang. He’s tired and his muscles are sore from the dancing. Blaine’s bow tie is untied and askew, also his hair is a total mess. They didn’t drink much, but even a few glasses of champagne for both of them, as they knew perfectly well from past misgivings, could turn into trouble. 

Blaine can’t stop touching Kurt’s waist all their ridiculous side-stepping way to the bed. He’s there, right there, so strong and warm against him. The shoes and the jackets are gone, and the shirts get untucked.

"Kiss me," Kurt whispers against his mouth, and then suddenly hiccups.

Blaine giggles, and pushes him gently on the bed, falling on top of him.

"Oh my god, that was so unsexy," Kurt manages to say with his mind still a little bit foggy, and hiccups again, this time even louder.

"No, no, so sexy, Kurt, so sexy," Blaine mumbles, smooching Kurt’s face with more enthusiasm than class. Kurt struggles to kiss him back, yes, they should be doing this, they wanted, tonight… The last thing he remembers is the fluttering of Blaine’s eyelashes against his cheek, before they both drift off to sleep.

* * *

Even though they wake up during the night for bathroom breaks and taking-off-the-uncomfortable-clothes-breaks and painkillers-breaks and tooth-brushing breaks, when Kurt opens his eyes in the late afternoon he immediately feels his heart flutter, simply because Blaine is there. Pressed so close to him, as if they’re part of an inseparable whole, an entity that has always been one, tangled within each other. It’s incredibly wonderful, and Kurt briefly thinks he’ll never get used to this feeling.

Blaine scrunches his face adorably, then opens his eyes to take in the surroundings.

"Hi," he says, voice rough. 

"You snore," Kurt blurts out, instead of saying something nice, picking a pleasant thought out of the swarm of buzzing feelings inside of his head.

"I do not," Blaine replies, indignant, though he’s smiling a little bit.

"Oh, you so do," Kurt giggles, he actually does, because Blaine snores, not too loud, but he totally does. And plus it’s accompanied by little puffs of breath, so it’s actually adorable. The fact is unquestionable though.

"Not even a bit," Blaine shakes his head, and tries to wrap his hands around Kurt’s shoulders, shaking him playfully, as if trying to prove a point.

"You do! Don’t even start arguing with me," Kurt insists, rolling on top of Blaine to try and stop Blaine’s hands from kneading at him. He doesn’t try too hard though.

"I should know better, I’m the one who has been sleeping in the same room with myself for as long as I can remember," Blaine grunts, placing his hands on Kurt’s hips, keeping him steady.

"You’re ridiculous," Kurt breathes, and sprawls himself on top of Blaine, failing to keep on fighting.

"But you know what?" Blaine asks, a hand wandering to Kurt’s back, "If I hypothetically, let’s say, did suffer from snoring… You know what would be the cure for it?"

"What?"

"Kisses."

Kurt’s face heats up. He only now realizes that he’s basically lying on top of Blaine, and there are very few layers of clothing between them. Somehow the whole scenario is not terrifying at all.

He stares a little bit at Blaine, meeting his hungry gaze and feels butterflies flurrying in his belly. Oh god, just from that look, those dark eyes piercing so deep inside him, Kurt can feel himself twitching in his sweatpants.

"Kisses you say?" Kurt manages to ask, voice breathy.

"Yeah," Blaine’s voice breaks too, and he leans forward, propping himself on his elbows, to kiss Kurt’s cheek, just gently. It’s sweet and barely-there and entirely not enough.

Unable to resist, Kurt surges to meet Blaine’s lips, claiming him and kissing harder with a soft moan of relief. Lips move on lips, tongue presses against tongue, it’s such a simple movement, really, but at the same time it’s everything. Kurt feels empowered; he doesn’t want to stop, not now, not ever. He just wants to spend an eternity tasting Blaine’s lips, as sweet as ripe peaches. Even though it’s irresistible, after a couple of minutes, Kurt parts away from Blaine, making him groan a little bit in protest, then presses a finger to his lips.

"Feel less snore-y?" he asks, tone of voice mischievous.

"God, Kurt," Blaine manages, before kissing Kurt’s finger, and then suddenly enveloping it all and sucking obscenely. It makes something snap inside of Kurt. Blaine’s tongue is doing wonders, and his cheek hollow around Kurt’s finger. Just from the sight of it, all of Kurt’s blood rushes south, his reaction getting more prominent by second. Because, yes, he can’t deny it, he’s already getting hard, and desperately trying to resist the urge to just rub against Blaine like a wild animal.

The deep longing he has for the boy in front of him wakes from its lethargy, and suddenly all of Kurt’s caution dissipates like dew in the morning sun. There are pleasant shocks of want, tiny fireworks exploding all through his body, and suddenly Kurt wonders why it took them so long. He doesn’t feel anxious, or scared, only impatient. There’s only one thought in his mind, as he kisses Blaine hungrily, only one thought.

"Blaine, Blaine, can I…" He whispers between frantic kisses, between the obscene wet noises they’re making. His hand rests on the taut muscles of Blaine’s stomach, not daring to move down, but desperately wanting it, "Can I? Blaine…"

Blaine doesn’t seem to hear Kurt’s pleading, he doesn’t reply, kissing at the palm of Kurt’s other hand, then suddenly moves to suck on his wrist. It’s something that Kurt would have never thought in a million years could turn him on, but somehow it does, it’s sinful and beautiful and makes his whole body grow hot and tense. His hand on Blaine’s stomach involuntarily digs its nails deep into his skin, making Blaine shiver in shock and arousal.

"Can I?" Kurt repeats, high and clear and on the edge of breaking.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Blaine babbles, and Kurt isn’t sure if he understood, isn’t sure that Blaine wouldn’t agree to anything at this point.

It’s something that he wanted for so long, from that first time he caught Blaine jerking off, to the shower and for all those times when he saw the outline of it in his sweatpants, for all those times when he imagined how Blaine touched himself to dirty movies, dirty magazines, he needed to bring Blaine the same pleasure, even more, with his hand.

He kisses Blaine deep, and lets his hand wander below the waistband of his pajama pants, barely brushing over the line of hair that leads him down, down. He cups Blaine’s hot raised length in his hand, and even though there’s that annoying layer of boxer briefs in between, it still makes them both moan into the kiss.

Kurt feels bold, he feels breathless and drunk on power. His heart is beating wildly, and it’s hard to coordinate his hand and his mouth, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to have Blaine as close to him as possible. He wants it to be good for Blaine…

"Where’s the…?" he pants against Blaine’s ear, and somehow Blaine gets what Kurt’s trying to say and swiftly reaches for the little bottle of lube in his nightstand.

It’s probably the same lube that Blaine uses when he masturbates, whenever he’s sure Kurt won’t walk in on him. The thought makes Kurt dizzy with arousal and he involuntarily thrusts against Blaine’s hips. Suddenly he realizes that he’s incredibly hard too.

"Stop," Blaine says suddenly and hoarsely, and with that tiny word Kurt’s whole world crushes. Kurt’s eyes shoot up to meet Blaine’s, and his brain is jumping to conclusions faster than a bolt of lightning. Oh god, he misunderstood everything. Blaine didn’t want this, he changed his mind… Kurt urges himself to roll away a little bit, anxiety already gnawing inside of him. He feels cold all over. Blaine looks at him with a strange gaze he can’t decipher, and it only makes him fear more.

"I just imagined… This would be more mutual," he whispers in Kurt’s ear, insecure and wanting and Kurt’s brain takes a moment to catch up. When it finally does, his eyes widen and he nods, lost for words.

And in a few seconds there’s Blaine’s hand coated with lube on his cock, and it feels better than anything Kurt has ever dared to imagine in those nights when he let his imagination run wild. Blaine’s hand envelops him closely, stroking surely but slowly, and Kurt wants to fuck in that tight wet heat of Blaine’s palm, wants to soak his whole hand in his come.

It takes all of his strength to concentrate and smear some of the lube on his trembling hand too, and return it to Blaine’s cock. He wants Blaine to feel as good, wants his heart to speed up its beats, wants him to sweat. It’s overwhelming, just touching him, feeling him there, a throbbing shaft and precome dripping from the tip. But then he gets distracted by the rhythmic up-and-down movements of Blaine’s strong hand, and his own hand gets awkwardly trapped in Blaine’s layers.

Impatiently, Blaine whines at the sudden stop, and then lowers down his pajama pants and underwear down to mid-thigh and his cock juts free, purpling-red and hard. Kurt’s mind goes hazy with lust, his mouth waters. He wants to take Blaine in his mouth, he wants Blaine’s mouth on himself, he wants Blaine’s straining cock pressing close, wants everything all at once, caution and baby-steps be damned.

And then Blaine starts whispering hotly in his ear, quick and debauched, just as the movement of his hand.

"Want you, god, want you so much right now," and Kurt gets it, he knows that Blaine is ready to burst into flames in any second, just as himself.

"Please, please, Blaine," he blurts incoherently, not knowing what exactly he’s begging for.

"Need your cock, I need it, want it fucking me so deep, oh god yes please" Blaine groans, and in two more bold strokes from Kurt’s hand, his eyebrows furrow and his mouth drops open, as he starts to come, hot white streaks shooting on Kurt’s hand, on Blaine’s own belly and the mess of their sheets. It’s mesmerizing, and Kurt gasps for every second of it, and just seeing Blaine come so undone under his own hand makes his hips stutter and he spills too, with an unrestrained moan, the streaks of his come mixing with Blaine’s.

He surges to kiss Blaine immediately, wet and hot, and slumps a little bit against him. Blaine is too undone to really kiss back, and focuses only on catching avid breaths.

As he tries to breathe too, Kurt realizes that there are tears in his eyes. He rolls on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s overwhelmed, of course he is, he finally crossed something off his list of long-awaited things, he’s had sex with Blaine, and it wasn’t awkward or scary, but just one of the most amazing experiences of his entire life. 

But at the same time Kurt’s mind is blown because of how natural it had felt, so light-hearted and expected, because it all happened so spontaneously and quickly, just on a lazy morning. After all the preparation and planning and scheduling and setting dates and buying condoms, everything was born for them out of easy banter. He burns with how much he wants to do it again, and again, and again. So much, that he’s physically trembling.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Blaine’s voice comes to him a little bit muffled, through what seems like hundreds of layers of thoughts.

"I’m… fantastic," Kurt says, high and panting still. He turns his head slightly to see tears in Blaine’s eyes too, and somehow his heart skips a bit.

"We’re no longer virgins," Blaine states with a tiny, intimate smile, and presses closer to nuzzle at the side of Kurt’s cheek.

They don’t say anything for a long time, cuddled against each other in sweat and dried come and listening to the sound of each other’s heartbeat subdue. 

"Shame we didn’t get to use the condoms though," Kurt whispers, eyes suddenly widening at the realization that he said it out loud. Blaine laughs, one of those sharp laughs that he often lets out after Kurt’s witty one-liners, especially during practice, when all their fellow Warblers collectively don’t catch Kurt’s humor, but Blaine does, and bursts with pride for his amazing boyfriend and everything he says.

"I solemnly promise you they won’t go to waste, not with all the effort it took us to buy them," Blaine licks his lips, and this promise makes Kurt shiver. There’s a whole world of possibilities open for them now, and they’ve only peeked inside one tiny door. Before his brain gets flooded with thoughts, he says.

"We need to clean ourselves up."

Blaine tries to untangle himself a little bit from Kurt. He doesn’t put in much effort.

"Okay… Even though right now, my love, I’m craving your grilled cheese and garlic sandwiches, or maybe raspberry jam and butter on hot toasts," Blaine’s voice gets equally dreamy and pleading, and Kurt smiles at him.

"I’ll make both for you, but only if you make us coffee," Kurt presses a sweet kiss to Blaine’s swollen lips.

Kurt has no idea how they reached that point, but after a quick shower and the most amazing breakfast in bed, they end up blowing the larger condoms into balloons and having a pillow fight over the last condom in the box, and giggling hysterically all through the process. Kurt has once again tears in his eyes, due to all the laughing, but in part, he admits to himself, is because he’s overwhelmed. Maybe one day he’ll get to tell Blaine just how much their ongoing emotional rollercoaster of a journey has meant to him up to this point. Maybe Blaine already understood everything with only a look.

They end up making out, and this time it’s slower and gentler, the steady and insistent rutting of hips, the tender touches and shy kisses. They get to undress each other properly, and hold each other close, discover the secrets of their bodies. Kurt arches his back whenever Blaine kisses his neck, and Blaine whimpers at the flicking of Kurt’s tongue against one of Blaine’s peaked nipples. There’s no rush, just the steady build to relief. And it’s exhilarating.

Within several hours of complete and utter silliness that transform into gentle love-making, Kurt’s cuddled up close to Blaine, facing him. He’s sleepy again, his hair sticking funny and watching how Blaine’s long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, observes the hazel sparks in Blaine’s eyes. Suddenly he feels Blaine’s heart speed up its beats under his palm. 

"What are you thinking about?" Kurt whispers, even though they’re alone, and feeling as if they’re the only two people left on the whole planet.

"You," Blaine says simply, and Kurt’s breath hitches, making his own heart speed up too. 

He has found the perfect person to make love to and laugh with, to support and accept, a precious boy who sometimes wants a lot and makes mistakes, an oblivious boy with an generous heart and honest soul. And his heart swells because of how Blaine looks at him, like he’s Blaine’s entire universe. It’s scary, but Kurt is sure that he found the one.

The person who loves him the way he is, and who Kurt will love for better and for worse.

And this is only the beginning.


End file.
